Parenting is not a Varia Quality
by Umei no Mai
Summary: Co-written with InsaneScriptist; a Black Sky sidestory. Being a member of the Varia does not make a person any less human, so mistakes still get made. It doesn't make dealing with those mistakes any easier either; in fact it may possibly make it more difficult, considering that the rest of the Vongola is convinced that the Varia is made up of demonic psychopaths...
1. Parenting is not a Varia Quality 1

So, this is something that just _begged_ to be written but has nothing to do with the plot of Black Sky, so here it is. It fits into the Black Sky continuity though, so everything that happens here may be referenced in the main story and vice versa.

As always, I own nothing canonical and all non-canon elements are joint-owned with InsaneScriptist.

* * *

 **Parenting is not a Varia Quality**

Maínomai of the Varia knew perfectly well that he needed near-constant supervision, what with his ADHD and mild kleptomania, but it was December and he was buying Christmas presents. Well, trying to buy Christmas presents; he did have a list and all but it was hardly his fault that there were so many shops and that the Christmas market being in full swing was so distracting, was it? So much to see! If he'd had Pýř along he'd probably have finished by now, but Pýř was one of the people he was buying for and keeping presents secret from the people he was buying them for was half the fun. Although at the rate he was going, he was going to have to come back tomorrow… which would be bad, because tomorrow was Christmas Eve and he wanted to wrap and hide his presents then. He would have gone shopping earlier in the month, but he'd lost track of time during the latest spate of missions and hadn't realised it was nearly Christmas until he'd noticed Housekeeping putting out holly bouquets in the vases about a week after he got back, which had been yesterday. Hence his rushing out to do it all today…

What he really needed was a minder, somebody –preferably Vongola-connected– who had the spine and the smarts to keep up with him and steer him a bit. There had to be somebody in this crowd somewhere who fit that description; everybody had been overworked this year, what with Massimo getting himself murdered in cinematic style back in March, so there were bound to be more last-minute shoppers than just him. And while he'd thus far today managed to get himself _out_ of the various little misunderstandings that always seemed to crop up when he was less than completely focused, there was no guarantee that would continue indefinitely…

Maínomai was briefly entertaining the thought that maybe he should just buy his presents by postal order this year despite the associated rush fees –there was no need to repeat The Great Patisserie Fiasco Of 1997– when he glimpsed a vaguely familiar face reflected in a shop window. Spinning around, Maínomai darted through the chaotic mass of bustling shoppers, grabbed his target by the upper arm and spun her around, unleashing a delighted smile upon confirming that she really _was_ who he'd thought she was.

"Hi! You're Erica Lanza, right? I'm Maínomai and I need a _leetle_ bit of help staying focused while I do my Christmas shopping, so how about you help me and in return I'll buy you hot drinks and carry all your bags?" The Varia assassin bit his lower lip and widened his eyes winsomely; attempting to win over the CEDEF secretary he'd heard so many good things about so she'd help him out.

"You're one of prince Belphegor's colleagues, aren't you." It wasn't a refusal but it wasn't an agreement either; it wasn't even a question. Maínomai answered anyway.

"Er, yes? We don't usually work together though; we're in different Divisions."

The secretary unbent just far enough to give him a Look that said she knew _exactly_ what he did for a living, thank-you, and Did Not Care Right Now, with undertones of I Know I Am Indispensable, You Don't Scare Me. "He made a highly _memorable_ impression at last year's New Year's party," she explained further. "Almost everybody was wearing dark sunglasses and flinching at loud noises for most of a week."

Maínomai perked up. Bel had pulled a Varia prank on CEDEF HQ? That Prince the Ripper had got away with it was unsurprising; what _was_ unexpected was that this charmingly vivacious lady had noticed yet hadn't spoilt the fun. No wonder Bel had reported her as being 'not bad, for a peasant'! For Bel that was practically singing her praises, except that princes were more likely to grant rewards than actually sing praises.

"So, please?" He begged hopefully, letting go of her to put his hands together in supplication. "Pretty please with marshmallows on top, oh most brilliant of secretaries?" Maínomai meant it too; he'd read the reports on CEDEF's performance and she really was all that was keeping the place from keeling over most days, what with her boss playing hooky to take field missions and being entirely without the kind of vision needed to keep a Vongola House on track. Vision wasn't strictly necessary for the Varia compared to the CEDEF as the Varia was pretty self-contained, but the CEDEF was an intelligence organisation and thus was supposed to be _proactive_ compared to the Varia, which was commissioned for work and therefore reactive. Having vision was necessary for an Intelligence Division because then steps could be taken to prepare for what was to come, so that nobody lost a limb or stubbed their toes fumbling around in the dark.

The twenty-year-old blonde eyeballed him in silence for a long moment, then sighed. "Well, why not?"

That was _definitely_ meant to be a rhetorical question, so Maínomai very deliberately did not blurt out all the many, many reasons his colleagues would give as proof that helping the flighty Mist with _anything_ was a really _bad_ idea. Instead the tall assassin _beamed_ at her, took her bags off her and offered her his arm so he wouldn't lose her in the crowds. "Fantastic!" he said happily. "Where to first then?"

* * *

Maínomai found out that the first thing to do was him handing over a copy of his shopping list so they didn't have to backtrack through stores while he was holding her bags as she did her own shopping. No need for him to not get his shopping done while he was helping her, as that would be silly even for him. Plus if they did that he'd have to carry the bags for longer and that would be awkward for the packages and him. She considered his list with scepticism, produced her own list and made a few annotations then took his free arm and set off towards a nearby store, tugging him forwards.

Maínomai blinked curiously at Erica Lanza as she managed the remarkably subtle trick of getting the thick crowds to part before her presence, so she could get to the stores she needed to get to while dragging him along. None of the people were cowering in terror like when Kuchisake pulled this particular manoeuvre; in fact the civvies barely seemed to notice them while making space for them regardless. Neat! He was happy to be steered and look around as she pulled him along, as she likely knew where to shop better than he did. Some things on his list had been incredibly vague, but he hadn't planned most of his gifts out in too much detail as this close to Christmas things were more likely to sell out. Chocolate for Mammon as it would be appreciated and not pawned or sold, something fairy-inspired for Mab or possibly a fantasy novel as she liked those. Something creepy for Kuchisake but if he couldn't find anything he could default to chocolate for her as well; darker chocolate than Mammon's as the Arcobaleno's child-sized body had kiddie tastes too, so anything bitter or spicy was out.

It wasn't like he was bribing his superiors in the Mist Division either, as the attempt to do so was Stupid and achieving the desired effect of bribery was doomed to failure, because Mab had retired to Housekeeping, Mammon didn't give 'credit' and Kuchisake wasn't going to give more than a hug of acknowledgement and maybe some profuse vocal thanks for a gift if she really liked it; Kuchisake was the Mist Division's General Manager in addition to being Squad Leader of Mist Squad and believed like Mammon that there was no such thing as bribes, only payment for services and well, bribery was Stupid because the attempt at doing so just meant an inevitable reversal of fortune by inviting blackmail from the person you were attempting to bribe. The same thing went for Raas who was Mammon's general assistant who was getting another scarf to add to his collection for Christmas; the scarf wasn't on Maínomai's list though because he had knitted that already. He was also getting something shark-themed and possibly a cuddly shark toy for Kӧder as there was no way to resist that and by giving it to Kӧder it wouldn't get him skewered like it would if he gave it to Captain Superbi. Maínomai was thinking of getting tea for him; some of the soothing herbal blends.

The only specific items on his shopping list were the various token and useful gifts to those he worked with, several craft items to be given as gifts to his fellow craft-inclined Varia and a new coat for Pýř. Last year Pýř had given Maínomai the woollen blue coat he was currently wearing and Maínomai wanted to reciprocate; it helped that Pýř's coat was looking a little frayed. Pýř's current coat would probably be fine for another couple of years before it started getting genuinely holey but there was no need to let his friend freeze in a worn-out coat. Shopping for Pýř would only be a bit troublesome as the man dressed sharper than Maínomai did, but it was doable.

Thankfully he had the delightful divinity of the CEDEF to help out, once she unbent a little more as she turned from terse into sociable with a little effort and cheer. Finding out how to talk to her took only two stores, and how to make her laugh took only one more. Maínomai also discovered early on that she had genuinely impeccable taste and _lots_ of class, so the chances of him managing to buy Pýř a coat his Cloud friend would actually _wear_ were very good indeed.

So far she had only had to drag him away from three window displays, one group of passing carollers and discreetly prevented him from walking out of shops with a snow globe, a set of hair ties and a decorative pair of salt and pepper shakers; the latter were shaped and painted like owls that were more cute than completely creepy but he figured that Kuchisake would like them anyway, so rather than putting them back he bought the entire dining set they belonged to, complete with the plates. She might even get some use out of them, as he was pretty sure that Kuchisake could cook even though the Varia had chefs on staff.

The Mist Division having swollen in numbers so dramatically meant a number of seasoned Mists were teaching the newbie illusionists about types of illusions beyond the obvious visual ones and introducing them to various specialties so they could find their own, as there were some things that some people had a knack for more than others; most Mists specialised in just a few areas. He had heard a lot about those 'classes' from Ghul and Fuseau –they each had their own 'classes' to teach too– as non-visual illusions were one of the things the horror-fanatic enjoyed teaching the recruits; Ghul had phrased it as 'a new horror, brewed in the witch's cauldron, approaches in appetizing guises that eats those that consume it from the inside to the sound of mad, cackling laughter' but the metaphor translated to 'Kuchisake was having fun with terrorising the recruits while teaching them awareness'. Food illusions were a tricky balance to get right as how food tasted to individual people differed, plus the depth of cooking and poison knowledge needed was considerable so not many specialized in that but the rookies needed to know about it because there would be tests later. Non-lethal first, but well, the placebo effect could be a very dangerous thing for Mists. To teach that meant she had to know how to cook and cook well. Maínomai was hungry too, but at least he didn't currently have to worry about people poisoning others for fun and practice.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, giving him a Look that said she suspected he was Up To Something. She hadn't caught him the first time with the decorative pens, and he hadn't even realized he had them until he stuck his hands in his coat pockets for warmth after that trip to the stationary store. That had reminded him to tell her about the minor kleptomania and she had almost been as good as Pýř about keeping an eye on him after.

"The fact I owe you a hot drinks and many thanks. I think I spy a café that way."

"Are you certain that you don't need to make a trip to drop everything off?" She asked. That she managed to do so in a way that communicated practical concern rather than implying weakness was incredibly impressive and something Maínomai knew he couldn't personally manage. In fact, most of the Varia lacked that kind of gentle tact. It was a very challenging skill but a highly valuable one.

"Nothing's that heavy; just a bit awkward in the quantity." Maínomai smiled sheepishly as he flickered his Flames in lieu of an explanation. "It's keeping enough weight that I'm not forgetting it's there while keeping it light enough to be carried all day, easy."

"A Territory then?" She asked quietly, a flicker of Rain Flames around them encouraging passers-by to be calmly disinterested in their conversation. That was another neat trick, so Maínomai decided to give a proper explanation so he could study what she was doing more closely.

"An Enchantment; it reduces gravity so what's in the bags weighs as much as it does on the moon. Holding a Territory takes a lot of concentration and energy, though Rules can make it easier or harder and then it still takes practice. Plus the crowds... that's just asking for trouble and I'm not a Territory Master. You can't move a Territory as by nature they have set boundaries, unless it's set up inside a vehicle and then it's possible to do something like make a car go for a thousand kilometres on a litre of petrol."

The only person he knew that had something approaching a specialisation in Territories was Raas, which with the right Rules made him a terribly effective assassin, especially in those 'impossible, surrounded by bodyguards, in broad daylight' types of missions while managing to make it look as completely natural or unnatural as he wanted. The 'Petito Guillotining' that happened to the Petito heir and his guards came to mind, as Raas had just leaned invisibly against the gates to the Petito estate, set up a narrow Territory between the gateposts with the rule of 'any party of four or more people that passes through will be bisected at these set heights' about ten minutes before the target and his friend and bodyguards went through. Maínomai and Pýř had been on surveillance for that mission and through a few Mist-tricks had managed to actually witness the effect; all those inside the vehicle had managed to get cut into pieces at set heights, which resulted in the vehicle quickly leaving the drive to crash into the mafia-owned manor. Raas then dispelled the tiny Territory and walked away, still invisible. The only reason Raas didn't actually specialise in Territories was that he lacked the Flames to create and sustain a larger Territory by himself, so he was more of a jack-of-all trades than a specialist.

"Handy." Erica surmised, nodding thoughtfully. "Well, we are about half-way through both lists and it is coming up on midday, so a break for drinks and planning where to go next wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Let's eat then!" Maínomai said cheerily, leading the way across the street and noting how the Rain-trick had faded away as soon as he stopped speaking about Flames. "What kind of brioche do you like? Plain? Cream? Jam? Chocolate?"

He heard rather than saw the faint huff of amusement and there was a definite smiley feeling to her voice as she answered him. "I like cream brioche and hot chocolate with whipped cream. I also have my car parked about ten minutes away, so if the shopping does get too awkward just say so; better to take a short detour than to drop anything."

She'd driven here? Maínomai had gotten a lift, and would be calling up Housekeeping afterwards so he could get a lift back. He could drive –he even had a driving licence– but he was a very _bad_ driver most of the time so he generally didn't drive unless it was a mission and something happened that meant that there wasn't anybody else to take the wheel, which had only happened twice. Shortly after that second occasion –which had been a milk-run with two of the newbies– Housekeeping had set up a system so that _all_ of the Varia could get driving licences and keep them up to date, which suggested the reports of the rest of his temporary Squad-members had contained major complaints about his driving. It wasn't like he'd actually _hit_ anything… well, not anything big. The car hadn't even been dented!

* * *

Erica wondered sometimes if her being secretly undercover Varia rather than just senior CEDEF secretary had anything to do with the way she kept running into members of the Vongola's Assassination Squad. First there had been the Storm Officer last year, then the Mist Squad Leader several months ago and now Maínomai. Was it perhaps something about her attitude that called out to them, some innate confidence that told them she was worth having an actual conversation with?

To be honest, Erica wasn't entirely sure why just about everyone was so terrified of the Varia. They were still part of the Vongola, with the Family's best interests at heart, and while they certainly came across as mad, bad and dangerous to know… a lot of that was just a front. Despite being Storm Officer Belphegor was still a very intelligent eleven-year-old –no, he was twelve now– and no smart and self-aware pre-teen liked to be patronised. Kuchisake had been perfectly personable until she'd been maimed by flying glass, and even then none of the CEDEF involved in the mission were physically harmed. Yes, the illusions had been disturbing but Kuchisake was a Mist; disturbing was what they _did_.

Maínomai was also a Mist, but he seemed to be the more subtle sort in terms of Flames and he was also disarmingly adorable and friendly. Really, that smile of his was _lethal_ to her knees and his easygoing, cheerful and rather distracted manner rather reminded her of a big, cuddly puppy. Maybe a greyhound puppy; Maínomai was tall, thin and energetic as well as somewhat flighty with the most gorgeously expressive grey eyes Erica had ever seen. Added to that utterly devastating smile… well, he was both very attractive and utterly charming. So much so that Erica was seriously considering the possibility of having a go at dating. She'd never really been interested as a teen and working as Iemitsu's secretary meant she was pretty short on free time so socialising had rather gone out of the window –even more so recently what with the aftermath of Massimo getting killed– but for _this_ guy she was willing to make an effort.

It wasn't like cute men offering to buy her hot chocolate and carry her shopping grew on trees.

* * *

The first thing Erica persuaded Maínomai to do after he'd bought her hot chocolate and brioche was take their shopping so far to her car and lock it in the boot; she very successfully argued that, since they were getting a coat next, he'd want to be part of the selection process so having to repeatedly put down and pick up all the bags would just be irritating. The petite blonde Rain also pointed out that it would be easier to find the _right_ coat for Pýř if he used his Flames to create an illusion of the Cloud that could try the coats on, which sounded like so much fun Maínomai had got up and almost left the café right away to go and try it out, only held back by Erica grabbing his sleeve.

His smiling chagrin had made Erica laugh, not in a mean way but with an oddly startled delight that Maínomai promptly resolved to draw out of her more often. She was really very pretty but when she laughed like that she _shone_ , she really did.

She caught him pocketing the long-handled teaspoons on the way out, but didn't make a fuss and discreetly slipped them onto an abandoned tray on a table they passed on the way out, which was kind and thoughtful of her. Maínomai then followed her to her car –which he memorised the plates and make of because that was what he did– entrusted all their shared shopping to its boot and then watched in appreciation as the CEDEF secretary added a pinch of Rain Flames to the car's body so as to make it somehow uninteresting. No parking warden or thief was going to look once at it now, let alone twice!

Maínomai resolved to ask Glace about that trick the next time they sparred; altering it to be a Mist-trick would be easy, but as an original Rain-trick it probably had a few handy nuances he wasn't picking up on right now and the Rain Squad's General Manager would be able to work out how it worked. Mammon would be all for anything that saved them money and the Varia not having to pay for up-to-date car alarms or parking fees would be a _major_ saving over time. It would also make stakeouts easier. Having to leave the nest to update the pay and display or the meter was a terrible tell, so avoiding that was best.

Then Erica dragged him into a series of stupidly expensive shops in search for a properly stylish coat, where in between having fun Conjuring up a model of Pýř only he and she could see to try the coats on, brought to mind something Maínomai realised he really should have asked earlier.

"Er, beautiful? Do you have a name I can call you? A codename?" He really had no excuse for forgetting to ask as he'd known her real name but hadn't given her his, which was very rude of him; he really shouldn't be using her real name since she hadn't introduced herself and telling people you knew their real name when you were Varia didn't make the best impression. He couldn't exactly give her his original name –that went against Varia policy– but he should at least have asked her for her CEDEF codename, since such a longstanding member as she was would certainly have one.

Erica smiled wryly, head tilting to one side eye her eyes lidded briefly. "Officially, _all_ the CEDEF's secretaries are known as 'Annato', both individually and collectively," she said blandly in that distinctive Rain-fashion that indicated irritation at the sheer stupidity of such a system. "Unofficially, as I am _senior_ secretary the rest of the secretarial pool addresses me as 'Wasabi', so as to differentiate me from those serving out the standard eighteen-month post-high-school stint."

Giving _every single_ secretary, male or female, the exact same nickname was a cop-out; Maínomai could see the holes in such a system with ease. They should at least get different names according to what year they joined in!

"How is it you haven't been infiltrated?" He couldn't help asking.

Erica smiled that small, sly Rain-smile that made Maínomai's flight instincts twinge. "I'm very good at my job," she said demurely, flicking through a coat rack and handing him a rather sharp-looking medium grey Chesterfield Coat –according to the label anyway– and taking back the black pea coat. "How does that one look?"

Maínomai decided that discretion was his friend and went along with the change of subject, letting the illusion of his best friend try on the coat and do a little twirl. _This_ coat made Illusion-Pýř smirk slightly, so it was definitely the best Erica had found so far. Maínomai couldn't think of her by either of her codenames; the official one was just trite and the unofficial one sounded more like a friendly nick-name then something to use in public with a near-stranger. Maybe once he'd got to know her better?

He did want to get to know her better, after all.

* * *

After buying the coat, visiting three chocolate shops, two bookshops, five toy shops, eight small specialty artisan workshops –half of which Maínomai hadn't even realised _existed_ – a music shop and a second-hand shop, the Mist found himself faced with a truly _dreadful_ revelation.

"What do you mean, no tea shops?"

Erica gave him an odd look. "Maínomai, Italians don't really _do_ tea," she explained gently. "We don't even sell kettles or teapots in the supermarkets; all the ones in Vongola Headquarters are imported. There might be a specialty tea-shop in Rome or Florence or Milan, but really, this close to Christmas you're better off trying to get coffee."

"No! It _has_ to be tea!" Maínomai insisted fiercely, then wilted when she stiffened in the face of his admittedly-blatant rudeness. "Please?" He tacked on miserably. He _had_ to get tea! Proper, good-quality loose-leaf tea, because the Captain liked that stuff and it always improved his mood. Maínomai hadn't realised it was a specialty import…

Erica sighed. "Well, Vongola Housekeeping _does_ import a variety of teas and my mother _is_ in Housekeeping, so I suppose I could ask…"

Maínomai carefully dumped all the bags on the ground and grabbed her hands. "Would you? Please? It's really important and there really isn't anything else I could get that would be even half as good… I could do you a favour for it?" Favours were something Varia members really _weren't_ supposed to hand out to people who weren't Quality, but this was an emergency! Besides, Erica did have a certain Prince's compliments, so even if she wasn't Quality she was pretty close to it!

"Be my date for the CEDEF Christmas party?"

Maínomai relaxed his grip on her hands out of sheer surprise. "You want me to go with you to a _party_ as a _favour_?" He'd have gone along anyway if she'd asked; he owed her more than hot chocolate and food for her help today as it was!

"It's an _awful_ party," Erica confided, face falling visibly. "It's _loud_ , all the other secretaries giggle too much, the men are just _dreadful_ and Sawada is just so _embarrassing_ I want to die. Never mind that I've been working for him for over three years now and he _still_ can't remember my name."

Maínomai felt torn between wanting to laugh at this very Cloudy rant at the horrors of office parties and wanting to hug the little secretary until she brightened up again. Just talking about the party had somehow leeched all the life and colour out of her. He decided on the hug; laughing would just get him hit. "Mission accepted," he muttered into her hair after sweeping her off her feet. "Is there anyone who needs to die? Or even just have a near-fatal accident? I can do those too."

Erica chuckled, tentatively wrapping her arms around his shoulders to prolong the embrace. "No deaths or messy accidents; we don't have the staff these days," she said into his scarf with a shaky sigh. "But verbal evisceration and humorously non-fatal stuff is fine."

Vindictive Rain-humour was just so much fun! Maínomai carefully set Erica back on her feet and kissed her cheek. "I still feel like I owe you," he admitted candidly, picking up the bags again, "even if it really is that bad a party. I mean, I'd like to date you anyway. You're wonderful." He was babbling, so he really needed to shut up and focus on something else. Like Erica.

Erica blushed adorably; red all along her cheekbones and across her nose! It was so, so cute! "I… I like you too," she admitted shyly, reminding Maínomai that Rains tended to be late developers in the whole romance thing. "You help me forget about work and make me smile."

Maínomai _beamed_ in delight. He'd found a cute, trustworthy lady to date! One who didn't mind his kleptomania problem! "Okay, so it's a date for the party," he said brightly, "and I'll still owe you for the tea. Is that everything on both lists now?"

"I… yes," Erica managed, retrieving both pieces of paper from her pocket to consult. "The party's tomorrow evening from eight, CEDEF Headquarters; I'll meet you in the foyer at eight fifteen with the tea?"

"Sounds fine to me!" Maínomai agreed happily. He had plenty of time before then to wrap and hide the other presents and the tea wouldn't be hard to sort out afterwards, not even if the party dragged on until four in the morning.

"Right, so if that's everything we should go back to the car and sort out your shopping from mine," Erica said more decisively, clearly having recovered her composure as she grabbed his arm.

"Lead on!" Maínomai chirped. This was his best Christmas shopping trip _ever_!

* * *

Maínomai knew that to make a Rain complain -even if that Rain was of a Cloudy nature- the CEDEF's party had to be dire. He just hadn't realised it was this terrible! Maínomai felt horrified and it wasn't even nine yet.

His day had started out well enough. Erica had told him that it was a rather casual affair, unlike the Vongola's formal ball the day before the Solstice, but he still needed to look nice. He didn't want to embarrass his date. So he had gone through his wardrobe and with utmost seriousness selected his party outfit before going to breakfast. He took enough time for Pýř to peek in, blue-black hair brushed back and an extra mug of coffee in hand. Maínomai took the drink, checked it with Flames out of reflex and downed it when both coffee and mug showed up clean. His friend and minder wasn't that fond of poison, but as it was the holidays nothing was sacred and despite Housekeeping's best efforts not everything remained safe. If Pýř hadn't been Pýř then he wouldn't have been let through all the security on the door; it wasn't an established Territory where his room existed in a space out of sync with reality, but Maínomai specialised in Alteration, which meant he had a wicked set of defences against anyone that wasn't Pýř and any intruders would have to pick their way through layers of Enchantments. Maínomai just had to protect his wrapped gifts from his friend, which only took a few more Enchantments, this time altered to keep his friend from noticing and finding them.

"Have you notified Housekeeping of when you need picked up and dropped off for your date?"

Maínomai thought back. "Er, no. I should do that." For when he needed to get dropped off anyway; he didn't know when the party would finish.

So the fact that he was attending the CEDEF's Christmas party was explained to Housekeeping and a ride was arranged to get him there; Maínomai had already explained to Pýř the previous night that he had been invited by the senior secretary of the CEDEF who had helped him with his shopping. His day progressed pretty normally from there, after a visit to Glace to tell him about the Rain-tricks that he had recently witnessed so that Maínomai and the Mists could learn to copy them properly. It would save them money and be so useful for stake-outs! Glace looked like he was interested in that particular usage but it wasn't like Glace used his Rain Flame's conventionally either. A quick visit to Information even allowed him to refresh his mind on who was who in the CEDEF!

He had then gotten changed and been taken to CEDEF's Headquarters so he could met Erica early by a few minutes. The front lounge was nice, if rather boring and impersonal with various Christmas songs being played over a sound system of some kind. Erica had been waiting for him, although spotting her had taken a moment as there had been no shortage of other people loitering and chatting. Most of them looking like recent high-school graduates, oddly enough; Maínomai hadn't realised CEDEF recruited so heavily from the mafia academies.

Erica had caught his wrist at that point, making him realise he'd been about to pick some teenager's pocket; whoops. She didn't seem to mind though, steering him towards the lift and pressing a button for one of the upper floors.

"I've got the tea in my office, since I wasn't sure which kind you wanted and there's quite a variety," she explained. "You can leave you coat there too; it'll be safer."

"Thank-you," Maínomai said sincerely, mentally racking up another minor favour he owed her. "You look stunning," he added, because it was true. The red cocktail dress with its halter neck, asymmetrical hem and silvery spangles looked just stunning on her, especially with the low silvery heels she had on her feet and the sprigs of real holly twined into the chignon on the top of her head; he'd have to watch out for those prickles later.

"Thank-you," Erica said, smiling at the compliment. It wasn't a wide, carefree smile like she'd shown the previous day, which Maínomai vowed to rectify. She needed to smile more! "You look very good as well."

"Thanks." The Mist was about to ask what the matter was when the lift doors opened into a wide, airy foyer with smart sofas on one side and a large desk on the other. Erica led him over towards the desk, making Maínomai realise this was where she worked. It looked lonely, especially since that was clearly her Boss's office over there. It was really just her and Sawada up here most of the time? No wonder she looked so severe normally…

Erica lifted up a suitcase from behind the desk, set it on the top and opened the catches. "I appealed to my mother," she said, "and while _I_ now owe _her_ a favour, you can have one tea caddy of your choice. Housekeeping only buys this stuff because specific people want it, so my letting you take one means there's the potential for whoever-it-is running out before Housekeeping can order more in."

Maínomai's eyes widened. Oh, he owed her _big_ then. _Very_ big, he mentally amended when she opened the case properly and he saw there was a choice of _fourteen_ tins.

"Can I open them?"

"Go for it; they aren't sealed," Erica said. "With tea being able to test it is very important."

After choosing a tea he thought the Captain would like best and secreting it away in his coat pocket Maínomai had left his coat on the hooks behind Erica's desk and been led down a few floors to the area where the party proper was taking place.

* * *

This had to be shock.

In all honesty, Maínomai had thought it would be one of those boring office parties. Dreadfully boring, people gossiping about everything, people eating too much, people drinking too much, embarrassing drunk speeches from superiors and maybe some drunken singing along to the carols playing. Basically everything that could be expected by forcing everyone that worked 'together' to socialise outside of work.

The CEDEF's Christmas Party was not a boring office party. All told, he had expected a little weirdness from it because the CEDEF was part of the Vongola so something like a contest or scavenger hunt wouldn't be out of the question. The CEDEF wasn't filled with celebrating assassins either, unlike the Varia who thankfully didn't have one huge event like this; that would be a disaster waiting to happen.

He had _not_ been expecting a frat party that looked to be in full swing already, despite it being barely a quarter to nine.

He hadn't had a good opinion of the CEDEF's people to begin with bar a few exceptions, from having read through a lot of the Varia's information on the CEDEF today. This... this had... he lacked words.

"I'm fluent in a lot of languages and proficient in more than the basics for about twenty more but I lack words." He admitted, quite glad to be hiding behind a screen of Tranquillity provided by his date as they wandered up the buffet table and he tried to process what he was seeing and hearing.

These were the people in charge of the Vongola's Intelligence?

People travelled in packs, some more drunk than others with shouts to other travelling packs, sprinkled with giggles and drunken flirtation when any group of men collided with a band of women. There was plenty of alcohol going around and there were even a few women dressed up in elf costumes bringing nibbles and drinks to the people staying away from the buffet; some of the elves had a seriousness to their eyes and a fake smile that said experienced server while others looked like they were fresh from school and going to drag some guy off to be a frisky elf with later.

"I said it was awful and Sawada hasn't even started to be embarrassing yet." Erica confessed dryly.

"He's in a drinking contest with a guy that looks like he's going to get alcohol poisoning. Or throw up and start drinking again." Maínomai pointed out as he started observing the party in all seriousness. "Is there _anything_ that's not alcoholic to drink?"

"There are the canned drinks, water and coffee from the office machines if you're a teetotaller."

"Tonight, I most certainly am," he said firmly as Sawada's drinking opponent found a trashcan shoved in front of him by his more sober co-workers to heave in.

* * *

Four hours later Maínomai was very glad he had abstained from alcohol entirely; his impulse control was bad enough without alcohol and that wasn't even including his kleptomania issues, although Erica was giving him free reign with the latter this evening so his pockets were already pretty full. He really wanted to kill a number of Erica's co-workers for being Stupid, or at least let them kill themselves; the ones that were passed out for instance didn't need to live if they were dumb enough to pass out drunk and potentially vomit in their sleep and choke on it. Erica had explained that the sensible people had long since retreated to the basement for cards and had a rotation set up to appear, get food or fresh drinks and lay out unconscious co-workers in places that they wouldn't get tripped on; they weren't regular rotations either. The last one was at six in the morning.

Maínomai really wanted to get away from this 'party' and flee to the basement for sanity, or maybe even back to the Varia who had sense. He'd promised Erica though and she clearly needed more support than she was getting from her colleagues, so he stayed.

Aside from the passed-out idiots, Maínomai had deflected no less than a dozen drunks away from Erica, one of which had been truly persistent and Maínomai had put down for a nap with a whisper of Flame. He had also been hit on no less than twenty times, felt up three times –from two of the drunk elves and their uncostumed friend– and he had long since lost track of how many had actually checked him out sensibly from a distance. He now had five phone numbers that he had slipped to Erica because he wasn't going to call them and well, she was something like their Boss since their Boss was still partying like mad. She was definitely in charge of most of the younger women, since she made a point of addressing each one by name.

He couldn't even kill or maim the people he was being irritated by, so that left 'verbal evisceration' and 'humorous non-fatal stuff' to work with as a way to channel any violent impulses. The verbal evisceration he had used on the overly friendly elves, which had sent one of them running off crying. He felt bad about that but he had still done the same to the man so drunk that he thought he was talking to Erica, despite Maínomai being nearly a foot taller than his date.

It was a truly awful party.

Eventually, after chatting with some of the more sober fieldwork teams at about two in the morning, he was recognised as Varia and even that was more due to the name he gave than any actual ability to spot him; as a general rule the CEDEF used spices and herbs, few in the Vongola used anything but their actual name while the Varia used whatever they wanted as a codename. No one with sense would name their kid Maínomai or anything that was generally used by the Varia. Somebody in the field team group had actually known Greek too, so had been able to translate the nickname and confirm for the others that it definitely hadn't been something any sane parent would choose.

Due to being Varia and Erica's date, this caused a bit of a stir in the gossip but it did prevent any more buzzed inquiries about their availability and willingness to jump into bed with anybody else later; the actual drunks weren't deterred, being drunk. Because he was paying attention, Maínomai could follow the change in behaviour and attitudes across the room, especially among the more sober ones who were generally those that worked in the field. By this point in the evening they were the only ones still standing, as opposed to swaying or floundering. Maínomai was able to see when the gossip of who his senior secretary was dating reached Sawada Iemitsu.

Sawada lurched to his feet, but then corrected himself enough to prevent a fall as the man's Sky Flames worked to clear out all the alcohol he had consumed. A few minutes later, Sawada reached them and launched into the most patronizing rant towards Erica, tossed a few insults his way –for being a murderer for hire, too controlling and 'entirely unsuited'– and the entire thing was pretty much a hypocritical waste of breath because the guy didn't even remember Erica's name. He just called her 'Anna' and as the entire secretarial pool shared that codename... just...

Erica grabbed his hand _tight_ as her Flames settled into glassy stillness in the face of her Boss's blatant disrespect of her personal choices. Maínomai was about to do something he definitely wouldn't regret when Sawada patted Erica on the shoulder, told her she should be grateful he was looking out for her then turned his back and walked back to the buffet for another drink.

Seriously though, nobody would miss Sawada, would they?

"Don't kill him." Erica reminded him quietly, throwing up another delicate screen of Tranquillity.

"It could look like an accident. Drunk himself to death." Maínomai offered. It would be a public service.

"Killing him would be bad for the Vongola, CEDEF and everyone. There _isn't anybody else_." That sounded very, very practiced; how long had his poor date been reminding herself of that? Months? Years?

"No killing then," He reminded himself. "Drunken idiot is... oh, there's an idea. He's like this every year right?"

"More or less." Erica looked resigned. "Every Christmas, New Year and end of July, in fact."

"And he drinks this much and encourages everyone to behave like idiots because it's fun or something?"

"And your point?"

"I'm going to change that."

And then he did.

* * *

Erica had not had any hopes at all for the annual CEDEF Christmas party, because that just left a person disappointed. The party _would_ be dreadful, Iemitsu _would_ be acutely embarrassing and the entire affair could only be gotten through by taking careful note of which of the new hires were being sensible, which were simply young and foolish and which were plain Stupid. After the party she'd write up lists to share with the field captains, which they would take into consideration when deciding which of the new recruits would be offered positions of greater responsibility once their internships were up, which would be recommended elsewhere and which would just get dropped. 'Party testing' was entirely unofficial –Iemitsu didn't know they did it– and it was going to stay that way, because if her boss knew about it he'd discount it on the basis that people's off-duty behaviour had nothing to do with how they were on the job.

He's actually said that to her once; Erica naturally disagreed with him. A person's off-duty behaviour said more about them than how they acted in the office, and with responsibilities like they had in the CEDEF it was infinitely preferable _not_ to put incompetents in positions of influence. Unfortunately Iemitsu _was_ an incompetent –relatively speaking– in a position of influence, but he'd been made head of the CEDEF because he was a Sky and Don Nono's favourite nephew so he was impossible to get rid of. If any of her uncles had been more interested in the Family's welfare than the position of Decimo then any one of them could have displaced him with relative ease –Iemitsu had subordinates, not Guardians– but they hadn't and now Federico was the only one left so the point was moot.

Having Maínomai as her date was really helping to make this party better than the previous ones she'd suffered through though, as he always had her back, was very good at fending off drunk morons who thought they were being suave and clearly agreed with her that the entire event was a travesty. Having somebody to snark with who didn't abandon her for the basement twenty minutes in was a genuine godsend and once things started to wind down she had every intention of dragging him off somewhere moderately private for a proper make-out session so he'd _know_ he was appreciated. Erica genuinely _liked_ Maínomai –it helped that he was yummy to look at and artlessly charming– so her drunken idiot of a boss deciding to ruin her evening by humiliating her in public with his unwanted opinions on her taste in men was really, painfully insulting. Never mind that as Mafiosi they were _all_ criminals for hire; Iemitsu couldn't even remember her _name_! Who did he think he was, telling her they were unsuited!

Nonetheless she reminded Maínomai not to kill the idiot. Maínomai somewhat grudgingly complied with her request, but then his face lit up with utter mischief. It looked far too good on him for her peace of mind, sanity or ability to resist.

"I'm going to change that."

Erica felt rather than saw the subtle flicker of Mist Flames spiralling across the room; she saturated the entire area the party was held in and the floors above and below with her own Flames as a matter of course, as the Tranquillity factor made for a very effective motion detection system enabling her to locate people who passed out in out-of-the-way corners and keep track of amorous couples. There weren't any other Flame Users in the secretarial pool though, and while about a third of the people working in the field could access their Flames, barely a handful had anything approaching proper training. As the CEDEF's Sky, training Flame Users was supposedly Iemitsu's responsibility but her boss was more interested in running missions in the field than riding a desk and overseeing training. As a result, while the field teams good enough to deal with normal Mafiosi and civilians they were just cannon-fodder to any capable Flame-User they attempted to oppose.

That was what had probably happened with the whole 'Flood of Blood' incident. All signs pointed to that being the work of a powerful Mist and the lack of proper training available in the CEDEF just meant that no-one had the means to so much as see through illusions, which were really only the beginning of what a creative Mist could do.

Erica blinked, then stared as Iemitsu finished a bottle of vodka and started swaying visibly; it usually took at _least_ four before he started doing that. Gently pulling her date towards the edge of the festivities she called up a subtle Tranquillity screen around them.

"Maínomai, what did you _do_?"

The Varia assassin grinned like a child on Christmas morning. "I quartered his alcohol tolerance."

"What."

"I quartered his alcohol tolerance," Maínomai repeated obligingly, still grinning from ear to ear as he let her tow him away from the noise and bustle. "I made it a pretty obvious trigger, so any competent Mist should be able to find it and remove it no problem. Provided Sawada actually notices, suspects something and takes himself to a Mist for a check-up that is."

"You quartered his alcohol tolerance." Erica brought them to a stop by the lift, pressing the call button.

"I did," Maínomai agreed, still beaming in a way that was eroding her common sense by the second. "That wasn't all I did though."

"Maínomai…"

"You said humorously non-fatal was fine!" He was still grinning, rocking back and forth like a child who knew they'd been naughty but was _sure_ you'd see things their way.

"What did you _do_?"

"I made it so that whenever he gets drunk enough to pass out, which will probably be all the time now I've quartered his tolerance, he'll strip down to his boxers," Maínomai admitted impishly, eyes sparkling with glee.

Erica couldn't help it; she laughed out loud for the first time all evening, helpless in the face of the hilarity bubbling up from her gut. She reached out to grab onto her date's arm just to stay on her feet, laughing so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

Then the lift pinged, so Erica dragged Maínomai into it, still giggling as he sniggered along with her. Then once inside the lift she grabbed onto his collar and went up on tiptoe so she could kiss him. The tall Mist got with the program at once, which was a relief because he was actually just slightly too tall for her to kiss him without him bending down a bit. Erica hit the button for the top floor while pouring just enough Flames into the electrics to make the lift glacially slow rather than bring it to a total halt; she didn't want to be interrupted any time soon.

"You," Erica managed to gasp out between kisses, "are a _genius_. A _saint_. Life is suddenly looking so much less dismal. _God_ …" By the time the lift reached the top floor she'd loosened his tie, seriously wrinkled his shirt and smeared lipstick all across his mouth and chin. Not that Maínomai hadn't been giving as good as he got; her dress was hiked up on one side where he was holding her up and he'd completely destroyed her hairdo.

"What kind of date would I be if I just let somebody humiliate you like that?" He rumbled back at her, grinning like the cat that had eaten the canary for a moment before swooping back down to attack her mouth again. Erica moaned happily. Best date _ever_!

* * *

Maínomai finally arrived back at the Varia Mansion at five o'clock in the morning on Christmas day with his tie crooked, his shirt misbuttoned with lipstick on the collar and a sprig of holly tangled in his hair. He also had that distantly pensive look that was an indicator of intense concentration and a sign that all Varia members who aspired to remaining as sane as they currently were should really keep their distance; the flighty Mist so rarely gave _anything_ his full attention that when it happened it was a sign that something was going to melt, explode or mysteriously collapse; potentially all three at once.

Pýř was waiting outside the front doors along with half of Information, the Mists responsible for the Varia's intelligence gathering.

"How did it go then?" The Cloud asked.

"I got another date for after Christmas," Maínomai said absently, fishing in his coat pocket for a few moments before pulling out a mobile phone. "Oh, and this guy was Stupid." He tossed the phone at the other Mists, who all looked thrilled. "Have fun."

Leaving the various Mists to play with the stolen phone, Pýř watched as Maínomai stopped by Information to pick up several specific forms to fill out; he was going to make a thorough report of the party. Knowing how his partner worked, the Cloud stopped by Housekeeping to pick up some hot chocolate for his friend, which proved to be a wise decision since the Mist was utterly focused on writing the report in one of those tiny rooms that Information kept free of distractions purposely so reports could be written promptly. Pýř suspected that there would be copies circulating around before noon; maybe even before breakfast was finished, he amended since his partner was finishing the report quickly instead of having to do it three times due to wandering focus and lack of organization while writing in ink.

Pýř suspected Maínomai had used the ride back to compose the report he was currently writing without pause. Three pages later Pýř was concerned; that was a long report as those were front and back. The recon report ended at barely half a side; the surveillance report on the other hand went on for seven pages. Then it was finished and shoved over as Maínomai worked on an 'after action' report, which had its own form. Those weren't a good sign, since they generally meant that something had happened that needed to be reported.

Since his partner hadn't said otherwise Pýř scanned the report which was written in very formal language, which made the report Interesting. Maínomai didn't usually do formal. It began with a rundown of security, which was rather dismal compared to what the Varia were used to. Cover as an office building or not, there should have been someone watching the party entrance. The internal security was also remarkably lax considering the CEDEF had been occupying that building for a few years now. Maínomai hadn't even noticed anything beyond what the building may have been built with other than a few Mist Wards and those were internal, covering a few desks that had to belong to some of those that went out in the field, since the CEDEF didn't require any skill at using Flame to join unlike the Varia. Then there was the general atmosphere which was described as 'frat party gone wild.'

Maínomai had then spent the next few pages detailing interactions with others in the tabled format typical to surveillance reports, complete with times instead of writing it all out and... had it really taken CEDEF until 2 am to notice that they had someone from the Varia in the building? Pýř knew that the alcohol had been flowing freely considering how many times the words 'drunk' and 'passed out' were checked out in the table, but... his partner had been there since about 8pm. Pýř scanned on, noticed the mention of Sawada, read carefully about the man's comments and figured that his friend had gotten a sneaky bit of revenge in for how Sawada treated Maínomai's date. How the CEDEF boss treated her in general, if he read between the lines correctly. So that's what the action report was for... and well, Maínomai's appearance spoke for itself about why very little was listed towards the end of the night and not just because everyone was snoring or had otherwise left.

Maínomai then finished the after-action report –which was thankfully very short– and waded into the recommendation report with the grim determination of a man possessed. Pýř hadn't seen his partner like this since that mission to Jakarta two summers ago… it was rare that it happened but considering that Maínomai was Varia Quality despite living his life about sixty percent distracted, well, it didn't bode well whenever he was properly focused.

"Hot chocolate?" Pýř asked when his partner finally surfaced properly; gesturing to the mug that Maínomai's intense focus had made him blind to.

"You're the best!" Maínomai said as he did a brief check of the hot chocolate, before another flare of Flame warmed the drink to hot instead of merely warm.

Pýř picked up the reports and handed them to the Mist outside of the room –the Varia would like to see the newest of the CEDEF's bungles so he was probably headed straight for the photocopier– and told his partner, "If you hurry you could wash up, eat an early breakfast and catch a nap before presents get exchanged. You also have something here and here," he added, gesturing to the lipstick stains on Maínomai's face and the holly still in his hair.

"Eh?" The Mist said as he pulled down the holly entangled in his hair. "Pýř!"

* * *

Recognising that being easily distracted made dating successfully rather challenging, Maínomai made a deliberate effort to pick a variety of fun things to do with Erica whenever she had the time. She was after all the one with the full-time job, not him; as one of the Varia his time was mostly devoted to training and missions, which left him with far more free time if irregular hours. After Christmas he took her ice skating, then to the Pasqualino International Puppet Museum right before New Year and on New Year's Eve he gleefully escorted her to the CEDEF party and got to admire his handiwork when Iemitsu Sawada keeled over drunk at barely quarter past ten and was still snoring behind a sofa in his underwear when midnight came around. That was a much tamer party and exponentially more enjoyable as a result, as none of Erica's other colleagues seemed to mind him dating her in the slightest. Well, not that they were letting onto anyway, which showed they had some sense. He had ignored the giggling high-school graduates, who were far gigglier than he remembered any girl being when he was in school.

In January Maínomai managed to persuade Pýř to help him arrange a date-friendly silent movie evening, which ended up taking place at Erica's apartment as that was the easiest way to avoid unexpected invasions and tainted food. Erica took a bit more persuading than Pýř did, but the evening ended up going very well indeed despite the addition of Wanhope, Fuseau and Mab. Maínomai hadn't known that Mab and Fuseau were dating and had a feeling that Pýř hadn't either. Did anybody know they were dating? The question was since when and how had they kept it secret?

Introducing Erica to a few of his colleagues had been interesting, especially since Wanhope was probably the least social Mist in the entire Division, but Erica had risen to the occasion admirably. She'd also proved that you didn't need to be Varia to have brilliant ideas, as her suggestion for dealing with Wanhope's aura proved:

"Can't you, I don't know, tune him out?" Erica had asked curiously, eyes flicking between the other three Mists present. "I mean, shouldn't Alteration let you do that?"

Maínomai had looked at Fuseau and Mab, who had looked back with very blank expressions on their faces. That sort of blank said, 'I feel _really_ stupid', so he had tried it; it had worked. Probably just within the apartment, since he didn't really want to keep something up on a larger range and he was useless at Territories, but still; it had _worked_.

"I feel like an idiot," Maínomai admitted, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, "and you are completely wonderful."

Wanhope hadn't said a word all evening, but he'd eaten the popcorn, watched the movies and accepted a drink from Erica, which was probably a record of some kind. Maínomai suspected Fuseau would be dragging his mission partner along to more Varia movie nights now he knew it was possible to protect people from the silent Mist's oppressive aura and rather looked forward to getting to know the other man a bit better. Okay, Wanhope didn't talk much –or at all really– but he wasn't mean or difficult so he was worth getting to know. So far all Maínomai knew about him was that he was the person who stress-tested the Varia uniform materials and that he specialised in Puppeteering, which wasn't much considering.

They'd watched _Nosferatu_ , _The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari_ and _The Mark of Zorro_ , which made for an unusual combination but were very interesting, especially as these were the 'Varia modified' versions that had proper musical soundtracks to them. The first two, being horror movies, had probably been re-scored by Kuchisake considering how chilling the music was, but Maínomai knew that Sekti had done the last one; it said so on the box. Sekti was quite a good musician for all that his preferred hobby was storytelling and he clearly considered scoring silent movies to be a worthwhile form of narrative.

After movie night –which had been unusually successful for a group date plus two, considering– Erica's work really started picking up again, so Maínomai had to make do with buying her fancy breakfasts, bringing her expensive coffee and chocolates at work and taking her out to bars with live music in the evenings. He also provided back, neck and foot massages, encouragement and cuddles. Erica was very cuddly; she fitted on his lap perfectly and had extremely enticing curves.

There was also the sex, which was very good indeed, but Maínomai considered that to be a given; he and Erica were having a fling, therefore there was sex. He was pretty sure this wasn't a serious relationship –Erica would probably have been a bit more forthcoming on various personal and family things if she'd wanted this to be serious– so he was enjoying it while it lasted and making sure Erica enjoyed it too. He did really like Erica as a person, so with a bit of luck they could go on being friends afterwards.

Their last date was one Erica picked out to take him on, which was a fun reversal. She also hadn't told him what it was, but it turned out to be a trip to Palermo's Capuchin Catacombs, which Maínomai had heard about from Kuchisake but never actually seen. They were very interesting and he had a whale of a time wandering around the different corridors examining the various mummified bodies. He could see why Kuchisake liked this place; it was very her.

After that date they decided between them that, while they'd had a lot of fun, their relationship wasn't going anywhere. Maínomai was a bit sad, but while he'd been cheerfully in lust with Erica and cared for her as a friend there'd been no genuine love there. It turned out she'd felt the same about him, which was encouraging really. They kept the friendship going with texts, coffee dates and another silent movie night, which was impromptu. Very impromptu: Wanhope had appeared out of nowhere with a stack of videos as Maínomai was leaving Varia Headquarters and the cheery Mist had agreed that it was a great idea, then dragged the other man along with him. Not that Wanhope had resisted; then again, Wanhope generally didn't.

That movie night had included _The Phantom of the Opera_ , _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ and _The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse_ , which gave Maínomai some insight into his silent colleague's tastes and plenty to talk about. The three of them had a great evening eating popcorn, commenting on various plot-holes and admiring the special effects –well Maínomai knew that he had fun and so did Erica; Wanhope was really remarkably opaque, but he did actually engage in a bit of eye-contact and exhibited some body language, so Maínomai took it as a good sign.

Two days after movie night Erica texted, asking him to come over to Vongola Housekeeping that afternoon. Since it was a Sunday and he didn't have a mission Maínomai didn't have a problem with that, although he was curious. Was this maybe about the favour she owed her mother, or possibly the favour he still owed her? He didn't actually know who her mother was; the Lanzas were a rather large family that had belonged to the wider Vongola Family since Quarto's time and had produced several Vongola Guardians, with a number of Vongola marrying into the family as well. Maínomai had a feeling that Erica had Vongola blood in her somewhere as she looked quite a lot like the pictures of Ottava as a young woman; maybe she was the great-granddaughter of one of Ottava's siblings?

* * *

Upon arriving at the Vongola Mansion Maínomai was directed to the heavily-defended Housekeeping Wing, which was… unusual. Generally meetings –even informal personal meetings– took place in the main building somewhere. The Housekeeping Wing was where the members of Housekeeping who belonged to the Vongola Family actually lived, along with their children. Hence the considerable levels of fortification.

Erica was waiting for him in a small sitting room, looking rather nervous.

"Are you okay?" Maínomai asked worriedly. His brain had been freewheeling all over the place ever since he'd been shown in the front door, coming up with all kinds of crazy scenarios.

"I'm okay," Erica reassured him with a small smile, "sit down, please?"

Maínomai sat down, reassured but still concerned. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked next.

"Nothing _wrong_ , exactly," Erica hedged, "but something's come up I thought you should know about."

Had Sawada found out about the prank and blamed her? Was there something wrong with Xanxus –who everyone in the Varia knew was on ice in the Iron Fort's basement– and he'd been selected as messenger? Was –

"I'm pregnant."

Maínomai's mind went completely blank.


	2. Parenting is not a Varia Quality 2

Incidentally, this story fits in right after chapter 96 of Black Sky and continues on from there, parallel to the main storyline. The next update will be on Saturday, but after that they will be more spread out as this being a shared project means writing chapters take longer.

Co-written with the wonderful Insane Scriptist!

* * *

 **Parenting is not a Varia Quality**

Pýř had not been expecting a call from Erica Lanza, especially not on Maínomai's phone. If anything he had expected one from Maínomai to pick him up, but probably not for a few hours more. Fling or not, Maínomai's date had been a source of gossip since Christmas, mostly because Erica Lanza was once of the few Quality people that didn't belong to the Varia. Considering the state of the CEDEF and how much she did both officially and unofficially for it, the Varia were not inclined to recruit her or else the CEDEF would probably collapse soon after she left the building. She knew it too and so ran as much of the _Consulenza Esterna_ as possible, despite the lack of official authority her position commanded; while Erica could probably leave any time she liked, she cared more about the Vongola than that. Unfortunately the political circumstances wouldn't allow her to murder her boss and take over herself, for all that it would be practical and probably work out okay. It would be different if she had a solid political reputation or known combat skills, but her position left her all but invisible to the majority of the mafia and having the Varia's approval was not the best recommendation, especially when she was unknown compared to 'the Young Lion of the Vongola.'

Iemitsu, while not completely incompetent, was almost entirely unsuited for his position. He made for an excellent field agent but his inflexible mindset, ingrained prejudices and general carelessness meant he truly should not have been made the boss of the CEDEF. There was also a subtle yet annoying aura of innate spoiled superiority around the man, mostly due to Iemitsu being Nono Vongola's favourite nephew. That kind of privileged mindset gathered those of a similar ilk towards each other and reinforced their respective idiocy. In that sense it was more of a blessing that the age difference and Iemitsu's foreign blood excluded the man from Enrico's former social circle, as that prevented him from being worse than he already was. Previously Pýř hadn't cared about the man beyond the knock-on effect he had on the quality of the intel available to the Varia, but back then Iemitsu hadn't been the boss of one of his partner's friends.

Erica's short and audibly concerned call had Pýř put aside his knitting, toss on his new coat and collect a set of keys from Housekeeping; a quick taste of the air revealed the faint flavour of Mist Flames with a distinct ringing tang that allowed Pýř to identify that Oversight had been up to his usual tricks to torment the rookies with. The tricks were nothing damaging to the vehicle or passenger, but seeing the heat gauge rise or monsters in the rear-view mirrors were two of Oversight's favourites; he had many, many more in his repertoire than that though. On almost any other day Pýř would be amused that Oversight had worked his magic on a vehicle with modified hyper-responsive steering, but not today.

Today Pýř pulled up the burning, wild and cutting edge of his Flames instead of the darker, boiling ones and, with Storm Flames in hand, Disintegrated the Mist Flames clinging to specific sections of the vehicle. The clinging tendrils of Mist fell apart instantly and the vehicle wasn't even damaged afterwards either; his control was better than _that_. Smirking, the Cloud started up the vehicle with smooth motions and then put the hyper-responsive steering to use by driving in a way that made use of it.

While the Varia Mansion was technically a mere fifteen kilometres from the Vongola Mansion in a straight line, by road it was a whopping thirty-five kilometres, all of it on minor roads and tracks with lots of steep ascents, descents and blind corners. Still, a Cloud driving a vehicle with hyper-responsive steering who knew the area well could make the journey in under twenty minutes regardless of local traffic, which Pýř did.

Upon arriving at the Vongola Mansion he was escorted to the Housekeeping Wing by a young man that made him more wary than set him at ease. Pýř was around Mists frequently due to Maínomai's social nature so he was very good at picking up on all of their little tricks; it was why he had learned to detect Flames like those in tricks, traps and defences beyond the conventional methods that were only useful at sensing Flames being actively used. It also meant he was very accurate in determining Flame types.

"Do you spend time around a Mist?" The Cloud inquired in Sicilian.

"A Mist? An active one? Why would I do that?" The –latent– Sun replied, glancing at him oddly. "I'm on the Cleaning staff, not Security." Clueless; was this guy being messed with?

Then the feeling faded away completely so Pýř settled for scowling and let himself be guided through the Housekeeping Wing, wondering what sort of Mist-trick that was that he sensed. A lot like Oversight's borrowing of animals to observe through their eyes was his best guess, and then wherever his train of thought might have gone next was forgotten when he was let into a sitting room where his partner was and Maínomai didn't act like the usual Maínomai. In fact, he looked like he had completely mentally checked out of his head. In the course of their partnership Pýř had seen Maínomai happy, cheerful, childish, confused, lost, angry and emotionally distant in a way that could easily be mistaken for sadness. He'd never seen this before though.

"What happened that couldn't be said over the phone?" He demanded in Sicilian, turning on Erica.

"Don't shout at Mamma!" protested a voice in the same language from around knee-level. Pýř looked down into a chubby upturned face with olive skin, large, violet eyes and an amusingly strong nose framed by messy chestnut curls. The boy clinging to Erica's leg looked about three and had potent but inactive Rain Flames with a hefty portion of Storm. Somebody was certainly going to grow up interesting…

Pýř looked back at Erica. "This is your son?" He hadn't known she had children; she certainly wasn't married and her apartment had only had one person living in it. The child _was_ vaguely familiar though; possibly from one of the family photos?

"Yes: this is Amadeo. Amadeo, this is Pýř, a friend of a friend."

"I don't like him; he's mean," the little boy said firmly.

Pýř smirked at that childish forthrightness. "I _am_ mean," he agreed, "but I was only mean to your Mamma because I was worried about my friend." Children were generally more worthwhile conversationalists than adults, not to mention far more honest and forthcoming in general.

"Maínomai is your friend?" Amadeo asked, glancing over that the still-catatonic Mist. "He's been like that since Mamma told him she was going to have a baby; Mamma says she surprised him."

Pýř twitched. Understatement! "You're pregnant?" He asked Erica, frowning. "Since when?"

"New Year or slightly before," Erica admitted sheepishly. "I really should have paid more attention to my body but it's too late for that now."

"You're keeping it." If she hadn't been meaning to keep it the Rain would probably have quietly terminated the pregnancy without telling his partner anything.

"I may not be a very good mother but yes, I'm keeping it," Erica sighed, moving to sit down in one of the armchairs. Pýř settled opposite her, on the sofa next to Maínomai, who didn't even twitch. "Amadeo, go find your Grandma, please?"

"Yes Mamma!" The little boy chirped, pausing to gift Pýř with another suspicious glare before trotting out of a different door to the one the Cloud had come in by.

"What I didn't get a chance to mention before Maínomai went into shock was that I _have_ to keep it," Erica went on quietly once her son was out of the room. "My mother is Maria-Chiara Vongola."

And with Federico as the only Vongola Sky still living other than the Ninth, the Vongola line needed all the potential heirs it could get. That meant there was an outside chance of the baby being a Sky, in which case it would take the Vongola name and be in the running for Eleventh, if not Tenth. Pýř made a face.

"I know," Erica said wryly; "politics. Sorry about that; I do my best to avoid them whenever possible."

"Why you're not agitating to be head of CEDEF," Pýř concluded. She was Vongola enough to take the position if she wanted it.

"Partly; I'm also not a Sky, not a known fighter, only twenty and female," Erica pointed out with a bitter little smile. "Never mind that I had a child at sixteen and am therefore 'irresponsible'."

Pýř did not believe for a moment that Erica's son was the result of irresponsible behaviour; teenage Rains were almost pathologically incapable of being irresponsible. Deliberately disobedient or terrifyingly reckless maybe, but careless? Never. This was even truer for Mafia-raised Rains, which went a way to explaining why a larger percentage of the Rain mooks and apprentices survived to make Varia, giving the Rain Division the lowest recruitment and turnover rate within the Varia.

"Does Nono know that you're senior CEDEF secretary?"

Erica looked thoughtful. "Maybe? Iemitsu has no idea that I'm his girl-cousin's daughter, but then again I didn't see much of him as a child anyway. Grandfather knows I'm working as a secretary in the CEDEF, but he probably thinks I'm in one of the lower-level anonymous roles because if I was higher up, surely his nephew would have mentioned me by now?"

Pýř snorted. That was so funny it wasn't funny.

"Visconti probably knows exactly where I am and likely assumes Grandfather knows as well, so he's unlikely to mention it," Erica went on thoughtfully, "and nobody else really cares. My main concern right now is how to arrange maternity leave."

Pýř considered all the horrible things that might happen at the CEDEF in Erica's absence and had to agree with her; maternity leave was definitely going to be a problem. He knew her job at the CEDEF was stressful and that stress was bad for expectant mothers, but the CEDEF also needed to remain somewhat functional when she was actually absent.

"Is he going to be okay?" Erica asked, glancing worriedly at Maínomai, who still hadn't moved other than to breathe or blink.

"He will be," Pýř promised, adding in his head, _even if I have to beat it into him_. Erica was Quality and she was in a very difficult position, which was at least as much his partner's fault as her own. Besides, the baby was as much Maínomai's child as Erica's and as Maínomai was Pýř's partner, that meant Pýř had a claim on the child too. The Cloud got up, pulling his partner to his feet and towing him towards the door. "Take care of yourself; we'll visit."

The words, "Thank-you Pýř," drifted softly to his ears just before he closed the door behind him.

* * *

The first thing Pýř did after reaching the car and getting his partner in –Maínomai at least buckled himself in– was gain some distance from the Vongola Mansion and drive to as secluded a spot he could reach, which was rather secluded. Then he gained height, stalking his way up the path from the dirt track that served as a road. Maínomai followed sedately but sure-footed, face still a blank mask, as Pýř walked towards a seemingly abandoned building; it wasn't abandoned but Pýř knew that the owner wouldn't mind if Pýř borrowed his roof for a bit. Tesla had been the Varia who recruited him and while the man had been retired since shortly after Xanxus took over, he still kept in touch. The hunting lodge didn't get much use anyway outside of those who hunted migrant birds.

A few handsigns had Maínomai do a privacy check and Alter the rooftop for a 'safe zone', which was different from turning it into a Territory; safe zones were made to be temporary and not take a considerable amount of constant attention and focus once set up. The first step for calming a panicking Varia was isolation and the second –at least for his partner– was to prescribe height. The hunting lodge wasn't very big or tall, but it was the view that Pýř wanted height for and there really was a fantastic view from up here; a full 360 degrees too.

As much as Pýř wanted to shake his partner and demand answers he wasn't going to because that would just make Maínomai sullen and stubborn; not conductive to working through an emotional issue, which this clearly was. A family issue as well, which was worse.

Knowing all this did not make broaching the topic any easier as it was an unsaid taboo within the Varia; not that Pýř had ever had a problem breaking those. As a general rule the Varia didn't speak about their family and relatives; those that had living relatives kept silent out of safety considerations and the orphans that didn't know them or had lost their parents prior to recruitment generally didn't want to talk about their situation anyway. Add those from less than ideal family environments and the general atmosphere did not lend the Varia to be a place where people chatted about their family or even the Famiglia they belonged to, if they had even belonged to one prior to joining the Varia.

So Maínomai fathering a child changed things for him personally, but did not change the fact that Maínomai was still part of the Varia and Pýř's partner. He was also a friend, which didn't change.

"No one is going to ask you to stop being Varia." Pýř began, choosing his words more carefully than he usually did; he didn't speak Maínomai's native language, not officially. However it was impossible to be Maínomai's partner for years and not gain an understanding of more than the seven he officially knew when Maínomai spoke nearly seventy languages fluently; Pýř preferred actions to words and letting Maínomai chatter meant he could watch more closely and have a legitimate reason to ignore other people if he didn't 'know' the language they were attempting conversation in. "Nor do you have to become the primary caretaker of a newborn, as no one is asking you to do that; you were simply informed of the child's impending existence. You can be as involved or as removed as you wish. If you choose to be involved we will have to sort out details for visitation, contributions to security and education at the very least. If you choose not to be involved however it is unlikely you could continue your friendship with Erica as you would earn her relatives' ire and incidentally prove Iemitsu right about your being unsuitable."

Pýř received nothing for his unprecedented linguistic efforts but a lessening of tension in Maínomai's muscles and a twitch of his lips. Emotional defusing was a pain; he'd rather deal with a bomb. He wasn't a Rain or a therapist. Talk about a bad –no, it wasn't bad just complicated– a complicated situation. Just because all put together it made a political mess didn't mean that all their problems were not able to be simplified and resolved separately. They had certain ties that were tangled up together but nothing that couldn't be picked apart. He just had to get his partner to recognise this.

"Erica's pregnancy is unplanned for. I'm unaware if the CEDEF has an official or unofficial policy on birth control or not, but I'll assume that they do or their interns wouldn't be able to act as they did during the Christmas party. If the pregnancy had been planned for then Erica would not be busy trying to think of a way to arrange maternity leave that won't see the CEDEF collapsing in her absence. I believe that she would be a good mother to her family if the Vongola Famiglia didn't require her talents elsewhere. As I was unaware of her having previously had a child along with the fact she has her own apartment, it means it is unlikely she is able to spend as much time with her child as she wants to either. She will likely only be able to manage visits to her own children once her maternity leave is up."

Pýř could determine whether Maínomai and Erica had bothered with condoms or not later; if not then he had a partner to educate on _always_ using them unless both he and whoever he was in bed with wanted a child. They weren't foolproof but better to have them and use them than not.

"The fact that Erica has Vongola blood is a peripheral issue that would only become relevant if her child is a Sky. Erica is a Rain, as are her mother and eldest child, so it is very unlikely that this next child will be a Sky. A number of Vongola have married into the Lanza and I can't think of any Skies being born to them since before Ottava's time. That political complication is minimal."

Probability didn't favour the birth of a Sky unless at least one parent was also a Sky, but it could happen and he'd worry about that and prepare for that possibility later. The unborn child could potentially be Vongola Decimo if it was a Sky and Federico went the way of his brothers before Vongola Nono finally passed the position of Don Vongola over. It wasn't like there was a surplus of Skies around to choose from. However Federico was still alive, so there was no need to borrow trouble for such a slim possibility.

"Even without a full-time parent the child will be taken care of, probably by his or her grandmother as their half-sibling is. Amadeo seems to be happy and well-adjusted even without his mother constantly there. Besides, I am going to be your child's godfather, so what is your problem with becoming a father?"

Well, he had tried diplomacy. If this didn't work his next stop was violence.

Maínomai looked thoughtful, if not all the way back yet, so Pýř just had to wait for a reply. When half an hour had passed in silence Pýř asked, "Do you think you'll be a bad father?"

"Yes," was the instant reply: "I _know_ I will be a bad father. I have no idea how to be a father! I'm mostly certain I killed my own back when I was young after an argument and I was able to use my Flames for the first time because I wanted him to suffer and die if not in that exact moment and it wasn't like he was ever around when I was little either. Mom had separated from him when I was five and made sure that he wouldn't get custody in the event of her death or a medical emergency and she was even flightier than I am! So I lived with my aunt, her son and my brother from when I was eight and my uncle was never around because he was working elsewhere and then my cousin died after taking a header off a bridge and no one is certain if it was an accident or murder because Ivan made a promise to help my brother and I with something that weekend and he didn't break those and... and... Pýř what am I supposed to do?"

His partner turned teary puppy-dog eyes on Pýř, complete with wobbling lower lip. Well, it was better than blank catatonia…

"We'll figure it out." The Cloud told him. "Even having no idea how or what to do you can't do worse than my parents. I committed matricide and blackmailed my father into arranging an inheritance for my cousin because my mother was the other woman and knew it."

"Pýř?" His partner squawked in a different sort of shock. "Matricide?!"

"She hit my cousin." Pýř explained; that wasn't the whole story –not even close– but it was certainly the most relevant fact. "We'll talk to Erica tomorrow, possibly her mother too. See what they've managed to come up with concerning the CEDEF situation. Maybe talk to Kuchisake to see about rotating a few Quality people undercover through the CEDEF secretarial pool and set up some wards so CEDEF's less an embarrassment to the idea of security."

"Okay," Maínomai agreed quietly. "Can we have ice cream?"

"Yes." Ice-cream was Maínomai's comfort food, so Pýř was prepared to drive them to a gelateria despite it being winter and fairly cold. They could take the ice cream back to Varia HQ or just find another rooftop to eat it on; it depended on how well Maínomai was coping at that point.

* * *

Erica was not entirely sure _what_ she had been expecting from Maínomai, but catatonia hadn't been it. Calling Pýř had been the obvious decision –that her former lover had let her fish in his pockets for his phone had been reassuring as it proved that he still trusted her– but after the Cloud had come and gone she was left alone with her worries and even more unanswered questions. The Rain was also left with her toddler son's questions and her mother's unspoken disapproval of her taste in men; the former Erica could deal with but the latter irritated her. Irritated her enough that when a member of staff came to tell her that she had a guest waiting for her in the gardens, Erica excused herself and left before even asking the man who the guest _was_.

When she _did_ ask the footman didn't answer for a moment, then stopped, turned around and confessed he didn't actually _know_ ; he hadn't asked. That was so out of character that Erica instantly suspected Mist-involvement, which suggested another of Maínomai's colleagues had followed Pýř and wanted details. Erica therefore gently but firmly dismissed the confused footman, called up enough of her own Flames to shield her mind from tampering and collected her coat, hat, scarf and gloves from the cloakroom before venturing out into the grounds behind the Family Wing.

She'd made it five metres from the building when she felt her mood plummeting, which told her _exactly_ who was waiting for her.

"Wanhope," she said as soon as the stocky, white-haired Mist came into view around a box hedge. The silent Varia assassin peered at her sideways for several seconds, then walked a few steps and sat down on a nearby bench set in an alcove. Erica joined him; the miserable aura he radiated was challenging, but keeping her mind Tranquil enabled her to differentiate between her own emotions and the Mist-imposed ones, meaning she could work past Wanhope's aura so long as she remained focused. He wasn't wearing a coat, just his uniform, but he didn't seem to be feeling the cold at all; maybe he didn't? Mists could certainly ignore all kinds of things if they put their minds and Flames to it…

"You followed Pýř?" She asked.

Wanhope shook his head, then tapped his temple; the universal gesture for indicating a person who was a bit touched in the head.

"You were following Maínomai?" Erica wasn't sure what Wanhope's specialty was but if he could keep track of specific individuals' thoughts from nearly fifteen kilometres away then he was scarily gifted.

Wanhope ducked his head, eyes dropping to his feet as his shoulders slumped even further than usual. Erica carefully reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"It's okay, I forgive you for eavesdropping," she said gently. He'd probably sensed his colleague's distress and listened in so as to determine its source; he didn't seem the type to spy just so he could blackmail people with the information.

Wanhope stole a sideways glance at her face, looked down again, bit his lip then slowly reached out and wrapped a large, square hand around her gloved fingers and squeezed gently for a moment.

"Thank-you; that's very kind of you," Erica said, feeling a little subdued. It really was very kind of him to comfort her; so far he was the only person concerned for her feelings on the subject at all.

Wanhope shifted on the bench, then slid sideways until Erica's shoulder was touching his upper arm and her knee was resting against his thigh. He didn't look at her, but his solid presence was oddly comforting despite the abject despair he was radiating. Erica let her head rest against the silent Mist's shoulder and sighed, relaxing a little. She was safe and she didn't have to put on a front; Wanhope wouldn't be offended by her tumultuous emotions and wouldn't let anybody harm her. She could work through her feelings about Maínomai's reaction and the baby in peace.

* * *

The next morning Pýř got up early and made sure he had all the necessary bits and pieces for a long, complicated talk with the mother of Maínomai's future child. He also went into his partner's room to grab a few different things; Maínomai was still asleep –although stress had probably meant he slept badly– but Pýř knew which piece of knitting his partner was currently working on, where he kept his stationary and what weapon was most suited to this situation.

Taking weapons to a discussion about sharing child-rearing responsibilities may have sounded extreme, but it was a comfort and security issue: being armed made assassins more comfortable. Leaving his partner to sleep a little longer Pýř went to breakfast.

Breakfast was interrupted by Wanhope. The perpetually depressing Mist entered the small breakfast room two minutes after Pýř had sat down, collected a coffee and sat opposite the Cloud.

"Morning," Pýř said shortly in German. He honestly had no idea which languages Wanhope understood beyond Italian and German; the Mist had to understand at least seven, but beyond that nobody really knew _what_ he knew due to him being mute by choice.

Wanhope nodded. It was a very _deliberate_ nod. Pýř felt a shiver run down his spine as his instincts abruptly screamed at him but it was too late: he'd lost control of his body. His hands were still holding his breakfast and his mouth was still chewing and swallowing, but that wasn't him.

The white-haired Mist's aura shifted slightly, from pure despair to faintly irritated misery. Wanhope then put down his coffee cup and started signing, using the Varia-specific handsign dialect rather than any of the official ones.

Mainomai was being stupid. If the stupid progressed into Stupid, Wanhope would take steps. Rain-associate required support for medical reasons. Pýř was Squad Leader, but Wanhope would be providing backup as necessary.

The Mist then finished his coffee and left the room; Pýř regained control of his body fifteen seconds later and broke out in a cold sweat. Then he gulped down his own coffee and headed back upstairs; Maínomai _needed_ to know about this. So did Fuseau, but that could wait.

Waking Maínomai when he slept poorly was a chore and a half, which thankfully proved unnecessary when Pýř realised his partner was actually already awake and vaguely irritated as he looked as if he had just stepped out of the shower, damp hair and all; he'd probably woken up when Pýř had left or had already been awake and had given up on sleep as a way to refresh himself so had resorted to slapping cold water on his face. He was at least dressed though and looked in need of a good six hours more sleep or failing that, caffeine; tea maybe? Hot chocolate would be easier to find outside of Headquarters though, especially if they were going to meet Erica...

It was a sign of how focused on his partner he had been yesterday that he had not yet called Erica to inform her about how Maínomai was coping, which needed to be corrected; plus there were things that needed to be discussed now that Maínomai was in a state to do so.

"Phone?" Pýř prompted, which his partner produced and handed over.

Scrolling through Maínomai's list of contacts, he found Erica's number and memorised it before calling it. She answered on the third ring, "Maínomai?"

"It's Pýř, and Maínomai's better. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Yes," She said and if she said anything after that Pýř didn't hear it as he passed the phone back to its owner.

"Hi! Sorry about spacing out like that on you yesterday, I was just, yeah shocked. Very unexpected and I'm still trying to deal with it. I mean what should I do, how involved should I be and I have some other things to talk about later or in a bit? We could meet up and Pýř's claimed godfather or at least uncle privileges and he's my partner so work issues to figure out beyond yours but less dire. Hey! What do you mean by that! Of course I work; we just have irregular hours and stop laughing at me. So when and where? Really? Alright, see you within the hour then."

Pýř waited for the verdict as he closed his own phone with Erica's number now programmed into it; he hadn't had it before as he hadn't had a reason to. Now however the situation was very different.

"Erica's taking a sick day, so we'll meet her and possibly her mother back where we were yesterday to discuss things. I didn't ask about that but well it's the Housekeeping Wing and her mother basically _is_ Housekeeping... I probably need to be somewhat serious and ugh, I'm going to have to Placebo my ADHD medicine." Maínomai ended that complaint with a distinctive whine, pulling a face as he did so.

Pýř smiled at his partner's whining as it proved his mood was much improved; the Mist didn't mind the medicine –it worked, even when it was a Mist-trick version done to himself– so much as the side-effects. It effectively killed Maínomai's appetite for twelve hours, shot his heart-rate up at least 30 more bpms so intense physical activity could become dangerous when sustained for too long. It also made him twitchy, a little more impatient and irritable but did absolutely nothing for his kleptomania; in fact it probably made the kleptomania worse, because when Maínomai was irritated his fingers got stickier.

"Half-dose after you eat something?" The Cloud confirmed, because hopefully what they would be talking about wouldn't require the full dose; the medicine was a stimulant and the crash afterwards was part of the reason his partner wasn't on it full time.

"Yeah, I wanna be able to eat lunch after all and avoid as much of the energy crash later as I can. So food's important, and then we get to talk things out. You all ready?"

"Almost. I'll meet you in the car." Pýř said, handing the Mist his weapons and gathering the knitting and stationary.

* * *

Maínomai hadn't realised that Wanhope was _that_ fond of Erica until his friend told him about what Wanhope had told him at breakfast on the drive over. Wanhope had told Pýř all that while Puppeting the Cloud, which his partner hadn't appreciated all that much. They'd have to talk to Fuseau later since Wanhope had decided to make a proper mission of things and Fuseau was Wanhope's partner and therefore automatically involved. Since Fuseau and Mab were dating and Mab approved of Erica as a person, the retired Mist Squad Leader might involve herself as well… the petite, fiery Mist would make a good godmother though. Maybe he could suggest it?

As it happened the situation was pretty much mission-level complicated and thinking of it that way helped him corral the lines of thought that would lead him to a proper panic attack if left unchecked. So pretending it was an on-site re-negotiation of the mission's contract helped, although it wasn't that exactly and it wasn't quite providing mission support to a fellow Varia in the field either. It did however mean he could focus on that sort of organised thinking about what he could and would do, plus what he could not and would not along with why or how. Having weapons on him helped for all that he was a Mist and technically didn't need a weapon other than his mind; the weight was comforting.

So while he was still panicking a little at the thought of impending fatherhood, he could function. And like Pýř said, they'd figure it out. Soon enough they were at the Housekeeping Wing and had been escorted to Erica.

Now that he wasn't worried or completely panicked, Maínomai could see that it was a very nice room. A decently high ceiling plastered with raised curlicues and painted with pale pink panels and gold accents, silk wallpaper in a slightly darker shade of pink on the walls and large windows looking out across the gardens around the Manor. The carpet was also pink –a very dark pink indeed– and the furniture was dark, polished wood with upholstery that matched the wallpaper. However most of what was in the room was space: it was easily as large as Erica's entire apartment and all it had in was a coffee table, two side-tables, three chairs and a three-person sofa, leaving the entire half of the room between the coffee table and the window empty. Well, technically empty: that bit of floor was strewn with duplo blocks and there was a sprawling train set of the same toy line looping around the loose bricks and more obvious constructions. There were a number of other abandoned children's toys as well: plastic My Little Ponies, about a dozen Smurf figurines and a variety of action figures. The child responsible for the mess was however not in evidence: Erica was the only person in the room and she was sat at the far end of the sofa.

First off, Erica looked like she needed a hug so Maínomai didn't hesitate to do just that or apologise properly for his reaction to the news while hugging her; she really was huggable. "I really am sorry to have reacted like I did yesterday. It's no excuse but I'm still trying to process and figure everything out..."

"He's high-strung. You have to be gentle breaking news like that to him," his partner cut in, speaking Sicilian. "Or else he panics and the Housekeeping Wing is not a place to panic when you don't live there. It is even less a place to panic considering where we work, the prejudices inherent to that and his Flame type. It would have caused a scene, but most certainly a much larger mess and brought even greater scrutiny."

Maínomai pouted at Pýř, and with great restraint he refrained from making a face and sticking his tongue out at the Cloud. His friend was being very diplomatic.

"That, would have most certainly been a mess." Erica admitted, as Pýř's point hit home to Maínomai as well. It really would have made all the people and politics they were avoiding notice and cause a high-level scandal which then would have meant they couldn't do hardly anything without some sort of supervision by politically interested parties. It would make manoeuvring people into positions to cover for Erica's absence almost impossible, if Erica agreed to that anyway.

"So, I'm not sure how good I'll be at the whole fatherhood part, but as a friend I'll support you as much as possible. I swear it."

"Thank you, Maínomai," she said, before asking, "Why don't you think you'll be a good father?"

"I'm flighty, whimsical and some days I can't even take care of myself." He began. "There are a number of reasons beyond that like not knowing how to be one. I don't remember mine too well, and that was even before my parents ever separated when I was four or five. After that I didn't see too much of him. Maybe a couple visits a year? He didn't even attend my mother's funeral. She died when I was eight."

"Oh, I didn't even think to ask if you were part of a Famiglia! Are you?"

Maínomai couldn't help it, he laughed. Pýř joined in, chuckling more quietly.

"It's an important question." She protested.

"No, it's funny, really," Maínomai told her as he tried not to laugh again. He could understand why she thought that and if he had belonged to a Famiglia they would have had some additional complications of the political sort through Blood or Loyalty Claims. It was still hilariously off track though.

Pýř explained. "Maínomai has told me that the CEDEF recruits heavily from the mafia academies for low-level secretaries, field agents and analysts. Not just for their individual talents but also their connections and innate understanding of the mafia. The Vongola mostly does the same with exceptions made here and there for talented individuals. However the Varia's main standard for recruitment is Quality and the Varia doesn't care where that Quality is found, hence why the Varia can recruit from all over the world without issue."

"What Pýř isn't saying is about half of the Varia start out from a civilian background. There're also the few mafia born prodigies who join the Varia because they're that good at killing. Then the rest are born into various criminal backgrounds and reach a high enough level of Quality to be recruited or accepted when they apply. As Varia, our first Loyalty is to the Varia. There are no Blood Claim issues as Pýř and I were previously civilian."

"And civilian covers a wide range since we're talking about what legal background they were born to, not their profession. Former military, runaways, street-rats, bar bouncers, clerks, teachers and Royalty even," Pýř added, giving Erica a better idea of what they meant. "Most 'civilians' recruited have killed before, often when inadvertently accessing their Flames for the first time or later on due to complications. Some however are recruited just because they can use Flames and leaving them as they are is unwise. I'm the former."

"I'm the latter, although the risk was minimal 'cause I'm not an idiot and I had figured out how to use my Flames by the time I was eleven but I've learned quite a bit since joining," Maínomai admitted. "But that's not what we're here for. So either I or Pýř will try to be there for you as much as possible now that I've got a bit more adjusted to the idea."

"First," Pýř began, "is sorting out your maternity leave if you haven't found someone to cover for you during that time. We've talked about possibly rotating a few Varia through –the specifics to be determined later– as the ones we've got in mind should be able to do your job with a little training, at least for some time. Even if you have found someone, then they or we can do something to improve security and do some training for those that are Flame-active in the field teams. My partner would cover the costs for that."

Maínomai mourned the soon-to-be-emptied state of his poor account, although he could cash in on favours people owed him for some of it. If he spun it right to a few people he might even get their assistance for free, although why might be left out and if they happened to draw a wage while doing that, it was the CEDEF's money, they were doing the work so they earned it. Double-dipping like that was a good deal if a person could get it.

"We'd have to talk to Lal Mirch about that and get her approval for it," the pregnant Rain informed them, "but it's a very good idea."

"Thought so." Maínomai sighed, mentally bidding a farewell to solvency. "And well, anyone we rotate through has to know how to do the job and be able to tolerate Iemitsu. There are also ways to fool Iemitsu without him realising it that we're going to have to use. Otherwise he's going to be claiming that the Varia's moving against him or something. It will take a _leetle_ bit of work when he's out of the office; we do it right and he won't even notice you're gone and his secretary has been replaced for most of the year at least even if we sneak a different Flame-type in."

Erica sighed and sat down again, prompting Maínomai to settle next to her so he could snuggle a bit and Pýř to sit in one of the chairs opposite the sofa. "Pýř, you can sense the Flames of those around you, right?" she asked.

"Of course," the Cloud said flatly, offended that she even had to ask.

"Right, sorry; how do I feel? To a cursory scan, I mean?" she asked.

Curious as to why she was even asking, Maínomai reached out with his Flames and made the superficial check he generally carried out shortly before performing a major Alteration in public; it was best not to do that kind of thing if there were near-Active people present or individuals with unusually large Flame reserves, as they tended to get caught up and make a mess.

Maínomai knew that Erica was a reasonably strong Classic Rain, but she didn't feel like one. That was unusual.

"You feel like a civilian," Pýř said bluntly, eyeing her curiously; "a weak civilian."

"I think that is why Iemitsu never bothers to remember me," Erica said, her tone indicating a degree of frustration as she pushed her fringe back from her eyes. "He's a strong Sky if rather lacking in finesse and is likely aware of the Flame type and intensity of everyone around him. Because he can feel people like that, he likely uses it to identify and keep track of people. However since CEDEF has a large turnover of low-level people, he probably also uses that sensing ability to judge those who come into range and subconsciously dismisses the ones who don't feel 'strong'. He certainly orders the field teams according to Flame Activity and strength, which suggests that the reason he can't ever remember my name or face is that my Flames just don't register to him."

"That's a rather major blind-spot," Maínomai couldn't help pointing out. "You're a very strong Rain, just a very subtle and Tranquil one. If you're right, which I think you are, he probably wouldn't even notice you killing him until it was too late." He probably wouldn't notice Glace doing it either; Glace was another subtle Rain.

"It is, but as we're intending to take advantage of it I'd prefer it if it didn't get pointed out just yet," Erica said a little sharply. "My point is that Iemitsu never notices me enough to remember what I look like, so as long as my replacement can hide their Flames from a cursory superficial scan and doesn't pick a fight, Iemitsu probably won't notice I've been replaced anyway. As senior secretary and de-facto deputy director of human resources I have free reign to choose anyone I like to replace me while on maternity leave, so as long as I warn Lal Mirch that I've hired a few Varia nobody will say anything about it. My replacements will even get paid accordingly; being Iemitsu's secretary is the worst job in the building so nobody is going to complain so long as the paperwork gets signed promptly and filed appropriately."

"That's… kind of pathetic," Maínomai mumbled, his already low opinion of Iemitsu Sawada plummeting further.

"Helpful though," Pýř pointed out.

Maternity issues settled for the time being, Maínomai then told Erica the next issue: he and Pýř had to go on working and while the Varia generally ran on irregular hours, their particular specialty was a bit unusual.

"Next is figuring out mine and Pýř's work. Usually we work as 'campaigners' so we spend up to three months away at a time on a string of missions, up to and including missions off-continent, so we're going to have to cut that down to be less than a month in the last months of the pregnancy and after the baby's born. Mammon may not be happy about that, especially during the busy season; September is one of our busiest times, world-round. As I'm fluent in far more than the minimal seven language requirement, Pýř and I get pulled in on a number of missions that require someone able to speak the language. Depending on the importance and urgency of that mission and where, we may get advanced notice of anywhere between ten minutes and a month in advance. In all but the most urgent matters we should be able to make the check-ups and... medical. Shit medical issues."

"Maínomai?" Erica asked.

"Family histories. For things like allergies or inherited conditions and..." Maínomai took a deep breath and continued the explanation. "I don't know what my mom died from, if I was ever told it I don't remember it and it could be important. Whatever it was, it was quick and I assume it was either fatal from the prognosis, something the doctors knew couldn't be fixed, or that the medicine or whatever wasn't there due to Austerity because the local priests were always there in the week before she passed on and wouldn't let me into the room those last few days. I'll have to find out."

Pýř swore a short curse in German, and wrote a note on the paper he had brought with him. "Blood-type incompatibility?" He asked in the same language.

"Blood type issues?" Maínomai translated automatically into Italian. "For whom?"

"I think Pýř means for me, in case the baby has a different blood type than I do as that can cause complications. Mine's A-positive."

"A-negative," Maínomai replied, "so no issues there. Good. Um, let's see what else. Education but that'll differ based on who the baby takes after in Flames and won't matter for a few years after the birth anyway. Visitation to here isn't that much of an issue, getting my own place will work as a screen for curious colleagues but I'd need to set up security there before moving in, even if I'm only there part-time. Reminds me that I need to see about the security for here, if that needs to be checked, added to, updated if necessary which we're going to have to speak with your mother for and I need to make a good impression there so I'd like to scout what's here; I mean the defences here are likely very formidable, but how many are working and what do they do? Who has control of them? How effective are they and everything. Plus if and when you're allowed to leave here or if I need to bring your plants from your apartment over here."

Erica giggled at him, her head leaning into his shoulder. She felt happy, which was good and helped him calm down a bit. She wasn't worried so he didn't need to worry either, as she'd done the parent-thing before and could help him even if she was a mother and not a father. Most parenting was pretty interchangeable, right? After all, the child's needs didn't change...

* * *

Pýř let his partner ramble about various concerns, making notes at various points. They'd have to get a complete medical history, but Pýř suspected that may be harder than advertised. It would be better to do so in person, if only for information control which would mean leaving soon in order to retrieve it, so travel would have to be arranged to and from Romania; maybe through Bulgaria or Hungary? Hungary would be easier if they were sticking to land travel, but Bulgaria's capital was closer if they caught a flight. Former Yugoslavia wasn't really an option, as it was still something of a warzone in places. Something to find out and Maínomai was native to Romania and still had living family there he was on good terms with, so a visit after 'family news' wouldn't be out of the ordinary and would explain any recent abnormal behaviour.

But yes, having a place of their own away from Headquarters would be nice for later. Shopping for alternate accommodations generally wasn't done unless someone was going to retire and not join Housekeeping; close-knit squads and work partners generally retired together and stayed together afterwards. They knew how to work together, everyone's skills, habits and quirks so from a security perspective it was far better than living alone. Some place nearby would be best; it could even require some fixing, as that would be the best excuse to tear it apart to install wall-plating, bulletproof glass-windows and other security features. There was quite a lot of reasonably empty hillside between and around the Vongola and Varia Estates, so he and Maínomai were spoilt for choice. They'd have to keep an eye out for other retired Varia though.

"Mamma? Grandma wants to see you."

Pýř registered the change in Erica's body language as her son appeared, and then again as the message was delivered. Mother-daughter relations were a bit tense. Maria-Chiara likely deeply disapproved of her daughter's life choices, even if she loved Amadeo, who was still in the room and had flopped down to play with his toys.

"Does she know I have guests, treasure?" Erica asked her son. Maínomai really needed to get to know the boy and hopefully move past his rather awful first impression. Amadeo was going to be the baby's older sibling after all.

"I don't know; shall I tell her?" Amadeo asked in return, turning to look at his mother with a Smurf in each hand.

"That's a good idea, darling; would you?" Erica said with a smile.

"I'm going, Mamma." Amadeo dashed off, again through the back door of the room. It was curious really how the room had three doors, only one of which could possibly lead into the hall. Where did the other two go?

"Why does us being here change things?" Pýř asked.

Erica smile, eyes dropping to her lap. "That's a Vongola secret," she said demurely.

Maínomai perked up. "Ooh, tell us!" he demanded, wrapping an arm around Erica's shoulders and trying to get her to look him in the eye. Pýř watched the playful tussling in amusement; if it had been a really _secret_ secret Erica wouldn't have mentioned it at all.

By the time Amadeo got back Maínomai had chased Erica off the sofa with threats of tickling and was pursuing her around the chairs, laughing cheerfully as Erica giggled right back.

"Mamma, Grandma says that they've got to promise not to tell!" The toddler said, running into his mother's legs and hugging them.

"Well, gentlemen?" Erica said, glancing from Maínomai to Pýř and back again. "Can you keep a secret?"

The two assassins exchanged glances. Pýř decided to ask for clarification.

"Secret from whom?"

"You can tell Xanxus; he already knows anyway," Erica clarified. "Nobody else though, not under any circumstances _ever_."

Boss was the only person they couldn't legitimately keep secrets from anyway, so Pýř could deal with that.

"We both promise to keep this Vongola secret from everyone except our Boss," Pýř agreed, Maínomai chiming in to promise with him:

"We won't so much as _think_ a word of it to anybody!"

"Can I show them, Mamma?" Amadeo demanded, pulling on his mother's trousers. "Please Mamma?"

"Go for it, baby boy," Erica said with a smile. Amadeo whooped and dashed around his mother's legs to grab onto Maínomai's hand and drag him off towards the door he'd just come in by.

"Come on! Grandma wants to talk to you!"

Maínomai shot a mildly panicked look back over his shoulder at Pýř, so the Cloud obligingly set off after his partner, Erica falling in beside him.

"So, where _are_ we going?" He asked quietly.

"What shape is the Vongola Mansion and what functions do the various Wings have?" Erica asked in turn as they walked past a bathroom and through what was probably Amadeo's bedroom into a narrow back hallway.

Pýř frowned. He could tell this was a trick question but couldn't work out how or why. "The Iron Fort is shaped like the cursive letter 'h'," he said. "The main building serves as the horizontal; the long vertical is made up of the Guest Wing in front and the Service Wing behind, with the Housekeeping Wing making up the short vertical opposite the Service Wing."

"Officially, yes," Erica agreed as they descended a curving servant's staircase, slipped along another back passage past a number of people in servants' uniforms and out into a wide basement with alcoves full of crates, barrels and bottle racks but empty of people. "Actually what most people believe to be the Housekeeping Wing is the Vongola Family Wing; there aren't many people living in it these days, what with the bloodline being so diminished. I have a very well-appointed suite there simply because I am one of only three people within a generation of the Vongola line still alive. There are two great-aunts, Ottava's younger sisters, but they share a suite at the other end of the Wing and their living children are fully integrated into other Families. Most of the other rooms on the upper floors are empty; the ground floor sees more usage as there are reception rooms, training rooms and other public spaces there."

"So where _is_ Housekeeping?" Pýř asked as they hurried up another set of stairs and into what he recognised as being the Guard Room tacked on the exposed left-hand corner of the main building.

"Here," Erica said simply, leading him through what had looked like a bricked-up archway.

Pýř stared around at the long hallway that had opened up in front of him, windows along the right-hand wall giving a clear view of the Guest Wing opposite and the wide open sward in between where the Christmas snowball fights were traditionally held. "This is a Territory," he said flatly.

"Yes; Housekeeping has six resident Mists who are responsible for it, although Great-Grandma's Nebbia helps out too," Erica told him as they continued along the hall after Amadeo and Maínomai. "Most of those living here are Flame-latent and untrained in combat, so security is higher than in the rest of the building."

Don Vongola and his heir could look after themselves, as could their Guardians, guests came with their own bodyguards and the civilian staff that lived away from the mansion were only allowed in the low-risk areas. This Wing on the other hand housed the people who dealt with confidential matters and kept the entire Famiglia running smoothly, along with their various dependents; no wonder it was as fiercely protected as any Varia member's private rooms.

"Could you move in here?" This was the kind of security he had been hoping to arrange.

"I could," Erica conceded, "but I'd much rather just have the security on my suite increased. There are a lot of people living here already so there aren't many rooms to spare."

With a bit of Mist-assistance it would probably be possible to ensure that Erica's suite was only accessible from the Housekeeping Wing despite it being in a different building altogether, so Pýř just nodded and tried to keep track of where they were going. It was not easy; they'd already turned five corners and the view out of the nearest window was not very helpful. Clearly the building had been made deliberately mazelike as a further defence against intruders.

Amadeo eventually dragged Maínomai into a large office with plain cream walls, a tiled floor and an entire wall taken up by bookshelves and filing cabinets. There was a desk in the corner with a computer but nobody was sitting at it; instead Maria-Chiara Vongola was standing in the middle of the room, talking to two butlers, a housekeeper, eight maids and three footmen in rapid Sicilian while gesturing at the flip-chart she was standing beside. Pýř determined quickly that preparations for the Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball were already in full swing and was glad the Varia didn't host that kind of thing. It had to be a security nightmare.

Madam Vongola then clapped her hands and the staff streamed out of the room past the four of them, leaving Maínomai facing the Head of Housekeeping with Amadeo still clinging onto his hand. If it hadn't been for the toddler Pýř knew his partner would have tried to retreat slightly, so he moved forwards until he was standing at Maínomai's shoulder. The Mist's shoulders relaxed slightly with his approach, then further as Erica came up on Maínomai's other side.

"Mother, these are Maínomai and Pýř," Erica said, reaching down to catch her son's free hand. "Amadeo said you wanted to meet them."

"I intended to meet the father of your child yesterday," Maria-Chiara Vongla said dryly, "but that proved impossible so I was hoping that today might work out."

Madam Vongola was a rather scary Rain. A Classical Rain like her daughter, her Flames had a weight to them that Pýř found to be similar to the pressure that might be found at the bottom of a glacial lake. There was a distinct sense that she could very easily crush you, were she so inclined.

Erica's mother was another person the Varia recognised as having Quality; even Bel was slightly intimidated by her and Lussuria was not inclined to get in her way if he could avoid it.

"A pleasure to meet you Madam," Pýř said politely, gently kicking his partner in the calf.

"Yeah, um, it's really nice to meet you," Maínomai agreed with a small smile. "I'm sorry about yesterday; Erica kinda ambushed me and I panicked."

"Hn." Madam Vongola did not sound impressed, but she wasn't attempting murder either. Yet.

"My partner and I will be doing all we can to support your daughter in the coming months, Madam Vongola," Pýř said firmly, taking over since his partner was clearly not anywhere near the top of his game. "Could you arrange for us to meet Lal Mirch in the Iron Fort so that a proper discussion on appropriate defences, maternity leave and other necessary arrangements can be had?"

The stony-faced blonde lady softened slightly. "That sounds very sensible, Pýř. I will see to it; would the day after tomorrow be too soon? Around mid-afternoon?"

"That would be perfect, Madam," Pýř said with a polite nod. "Thank-you for your forbearance."

"You are very welcome. Erica, why couldn't you have picked the sensible one rather than the pretty one?"

"Mother!" Erica wailed, flushing pink even as Maínomai looked like he'd been slapped around the face with a fish. "Stop it!"

"I call it as I see it, dear," Madam Vongola said, utterly unrepentant.

"I happen to _like_ the pretty one, mother," Erica replied tartly, recovering admirably quickly. "He's amusing and sweet, both of which I need more of in my life."

"I suppose I should be grateful you're not marrying him," the older woman mused, shaking her head. "Really, dear, your taste in men… oh well, nothing to be done about that now. Off you go. Shoo!"

"Can I play in the gardens, Mamma?" Amadeo asked as Erica hustled the four of them out of the office and towards a different staircase to the one they'd come up.

"If Pýř or Maínomai agrees to go with you, yes: I need to call work and have some paperwork sent over," Erica told the toddler.

"Will you be staying in Housekeeping?" Pýř asked.

Erica eyed him. "I could do," she conceded.

"Then we will both accompany your son," Pýř said firmly. Maínomai needed to bond with the boy and he personally intended to see what he could coax out of the three-year-old about the situation.

"Thank-you Pýř, that's very kind of you. Amadeo, remember to put on your coat, hat and winter boots; you can't go outside in slippers."

* * *

Pýř watched his partner and Amadeo play around in the gardens until the sun started to slip past high noon, at which point he reminded them that Amadeo would likely want lunch, checking his watch to confirm it was indeed getting towards one o'clock. Maínomai had been a bit hesitant about playing with Amadeo, but he had let the energetic toddler choose the games and had fun once he had lost his nervousness. Pýř had even joined in a couple of rounds of hide and seek. Just doing that kind of thing with Erica's firstborn had really eased a lot of his partner's worries concerning his ability to interact with children, which was good to see. So after a nice lunch with Erica and her son, the two of them pleaded having 'responsible adult things' to do, so they couldn't play more, or so they told Amadeo. Pýř had just waited for his partner and Erica to say goodbye to each-other while he told Amadeo to be good for his mother. Amadeo had just asked if Mainomai would be coming back, which Pýř readily promised on his partner's behalf.

On the drive back they took their time and went the long way around along the back roads and tracks between farms, because somewhere between the Varia and the Vongola was likely going to be their new place of permanent residence in a few years; probably somewhere up in the mountains because as much as Maínomai disliked the cold, he had always liked height. Pýř liked the isolation as picking out who belonged and who didn't would be easier and they'd still be close to a main road. Pýř was more of a generalist within the Varia so being able to have clear sight lines on whoever approached was something he preferred. They'd either have to speak to a realtor or have Housekeeping purchase a property they had scouted beforehand on their behalf. Probably the latter would be better, as Varia Housekeeping were more likely to know who had already settled where and enable them to avoid any eccentric or overly nosey neighbours.

"We're going to have to speak to Mab as well, if just to find an eventual residence to remodel." Pýř told Maínomai on the way back. "Kuchisake too."

"Oh, for Fuseau and Wanhope, plus Kuchisake has official pull should we be allowed to rotate a squad through the CEDEF right?"

Pýř nodded as he drove on. "Yes, and they may even wish to attend, so the meeting will have to be set up in the Vongola Wing which is less secure and we will need to inform Maria-Chiara promptly should they decide to attend."

"Do you even have her number?"

"No, hence needing to talk to Mab. Fuseau first, as Wanhope is his partner, so you get to find Mab in the meantime."

Finding Fuseau was easy as his 'schedule' was both well-known and deliberately regular so other people didn't have to interact with Wanhope or his aura; he was at Wanhope's tower. With any other Varia having such a regular schedule would be a liability, but Wanhope being a Puppeteer meant that anybody attempting to take advantage would be noticed, co-opted and forced to commit suicide. That had actually happened a few times shortly after Wanhope joined up, after which everybody had wisely decided that attempting to assassinate Wanhope or Fuseau was Stupid. The regular schedule therefore continued.

Due to the aura of despair that Wanhope projected everywhere around him, Wanhope wasn't housed anywhere near anyone else's rooms. In fact, the official function of the ground floor of Wanhope's tower and the three floors above that were as receiving rooms for clients that the Varia didn't like or wanted to be uncomfortable that made requests to the Varia in person; Wanhope's aura had ingrained itself in the stone, which put itself severely at odds with the wonderful view out the windows and how comfortably the rooms were furnished. It unnerved clients very well, as they didn't know why they were feeling so off-balance. The otherwise empty floor below Wanhope's rooms was where Pýř found Fuseau, so Pýř was in range for the worst of it.

Pýř knocked twice for politeness' sake, identified himself and was allowed entrance. He hadn't expected Fuseau to have turned the room below his partner's into a spinning and weaving room. There was an honest to god full sized weaving loom in there. Pýř didn't want to know if Fuseau dyed what he spun himself, but there were no dying buckets, bins or however that happened in sight. Maybe that happened in one of the other rooms on this floor then.

"You're not my usual guest, I'll have ya know." Fuseau stated in drawling Russian as he gestured towards a place to sit with one of his spindly hands.

Pýř was unwilling to get drawn into the usual Mist-double-speak today, so decided that to speak plainly was best. "Wanhope decided to take initiative and join Maínomai and me in supporting an associate of ours. She's due in September."

"Ah, Erica then?" The Mist asked after a moment of thought.

Pýř nodded.

"Then I have no problems 'bout that. Happy ta help since you'll likely need it. I'll assume you're going ta talk with Kuchisake then and have her adjust your mission schedules?"

"And with Mab." Pýř added.

"To appoint her as godmother or for information ta acquire a residence nearby for your eventual retirement?" Fuseau questioned, arching a brow. "Either or, when you see her and are done, send the Faerie Queen my way. We've got plans."

Pýř heard the innuendo loud and clear, so he closed the door and tried to banish the image of the tall, manipulative Mist and the tiny but fierce –if retired– Mist together.

* * *

Finding Mab was harder as she did not keep a regular 'schedule' for all that she had 'retired' to Housekeeping. Even so, some habits didn't change and Monday afternoons had consistently been spent with Kuchisake for at least the last few years unless one of them was on a mission; not that it made wherever they were at any easier to find, as that did change. Chances were that his partner had already explained the situation as it stood to his superior and the other woman they both trusted; unlike Ottabio, Pýř actually trusted both Mists despite the widespread assumption that Mists were naturally deceptive and just waiting to betray others. A lot of that was prejudice and just how those in the mafia were raised, but the idea had been around nearly as long as the Vongola and there were a number of people that believed it, Mists included, throughout the Mafia.

The Varia was the Varia however so ideas like that... they frequently were proven wrong or proven to be a product of mafia culture such as it was. Even so, some of the Varia had played on various stereotypes and ideas like that and reaped the benefits. Pýř had certainly done so, as being a Cloud had its advantages like being able to intimidate a mook into telling him where Kuchisake was last seen with nothing more than a glare and mentioning the Mist Squad Leader's name; thankfully close-by in what was known as the 'costume room', although it had originally mostly contained spare uniforms and appropriate clothing of various sizes in case someone didn't have heavy winter gear and had a mission to somewhere where it was required. Now it also held a selection of disguises, make-up kits for undercover work and bolts of fabric for those Varia who wanted to personally alter their uniforms.

Entering the room and following the chatter across the spaces between the high shelves Pýř could tell Maínomai was with them both, although it took him a moment to realize that Mab was helping Kuchisake assemble a dress. Mostly because it took a moment for him to recognize that it was Kuchisake who was wearing said garment; she didn't look like she had waltzed out of someone's nightmare for once, which was a description that had only gotten more popular since she had gotten those stitches instead of being merely very creepy.

The only problem was that Mab seemed to be lecturing Maínomai on something and Kuchisake was chiming in on it and Pýř didn't know the language; didn't even recognise it as something he'd heard before. That was more of an occupational hazard than not around high-level Mists, who using Mist Flames could copy and paste languages into their minds and thus learn enough to be fluent in less than a month. It didn't always mean the knowledge would reliably stick for more than a few weeks, but that's what practice was for.

Still, Mab looked like more of a pixie than a faerie queen with a short, curly bob of orange hair, freckles and clearly Mist-constructed dragonfly-like wings holding her a distance above the ground, which was the only reason she was able to get up high enough to pull his partner closer to her level by his hair. Pýř wasn't certain she was more than 150cm tall and she might actually be shorter than that.

"Mab." He said, gaining her attention.

"Ah, Pýř," Mab said, switching to Danish. "This fool here was telling us about how careful and responsible he's been, despite it having been a fling. Well, other than the Christmas party and the 3rd of January which deserves far more than this!" And with that the pixie flew up higher and put her knuckles to Maínomai's head and rubbed. Hard, judging by the squirming. "The only reason he's not getting worse is I'm the babe's godmother."

Maínomai whimpered, but didn't try to retreat behind Pýř until Mab waved him off. She was done with him, for now.

Mab bobbed in the air, flicking her wings as she continued, "So don't worry your silly little heads off. Something like this woulda happened eventually, although most of us have the sense not to get entangled up in politics like fools, but love no matter how brief makes fools of us all eventually. The Irish know that better than anyone after all. Now then, because you're the sensible one Pýř, I'll tell you that I'll call over and arrange it so that both Kuchisake and I will attend on Wednesday as well. As for where you're looking at, you're in luck that I've already looked in that area for my own reasons. Now which side are you looking at because your neighbours will differ?"

"The backroads from Santa Cristina Gela to Marineo instead of off the Strada Provinciale 5; preferably off of that road too, up to and including on the mountains. Nothing fancy, as we won't be full-time residents for some time, which will give us time to renovate as we wish."

"See, the sensible one. Now for neighbours, if you'd gone off of Strada Provinciale 5 and onto 103 then you'd be close to one of those loonies from Marvel Squad. He retired almost a decade ago and hasn't gotten any saner since. Since you're on the back roads 'tween towns, there's a bit of open land used for farming and whatnot. You won't have a former Varia neighbour until either Santa Cristina Gela or Marineo but you'll have Talbot and his sheep if you settle about halfway across. Most retirees either go back to their native country, their Famiglia or settle further away. Generally not somewhere halfway between here and the Vongola."

"The ring-smith?" Pýř asked, mostly for confirmation.

"You know any other Talbot? He's got that apprentice too, the one that went and humiliated Vongola Nono's Guardians before Massimo's drowning eclipsed that round of gossip. All accounts have him as a strong Lightning, smart enough for the ring-smith to have taken him on with plenty of self-confidence and devotion to his Lady. I'd like to see if I could get a meeting with Seer to scrape up some self-confidence for Doninha and Kayc, but passing on the message that the Varia's willing to hire any of his Lady's associates that are well trained and willing to kill will have to do."

And if that wasn't an implied order then Pýř didn't know what was.

"Best to let Maínomai do that." Kuchisake sighed and did a twirl to show off the dress. "He's got better social skills, although I've heard you've been very diplomatic lately, Pýř." She dragged out her last phrase in a breathy voice, and she was too close.

When had Kuchisake gotten so close? Sensing his discomfort, she leaned in ever closer before dancing out of his reach when he moved to defend his personal space. His attempt was met with laughter; the creepy send-chills-up-the-spine laughter that was pitched just right to sound on the wrong side of sanity.

"I promise that I'll behave, like a good girl." Kuchisake purred that promise like a sex kitten before she turned on her heel and switched back into being a professional. The change in body language wasn't as jarring as it had been when Pýř had first witnessed it; he had gotten used to it, although it was still startling to witness the change. "I'll even look nice, since any sensible woman knows better than to think pretty means stupid."

Pýř decided it was best to not intrude on their time together further, so he relayed Fuseau's message to Mab and exited the room with his partner. Maínomai was clearly more confident about this now.

"Finally adjusting?"

"Yeah, Mab set my head straight, threatened to render me impotent and congratulated me while interrogating me about precautions because if I hadn't taken any at all she'd Curse me with more than impotence for sheer idiocy."

"That all?"

"Just the summary." Maínomai said with a smile. "I took out the impolite words and phrases. Kuchisake told her that she needed to get practice in not cursing if she's going to be around a child so that'll be fun to watch."

Pýř laughed and then something resembling understanding fell into place. Well, if Mab got her way then Maínomai's child would have a not-much-younger playmate.


	3. Parenting is not a Varia Quality 3

Okay, I'm putting this up a day earlier than I said because my schedule for tommorrow looks _hectic_. Enjoy!

Really, with this story the main problem is keeping it concise enough that it doesn't take over completely and replace Black Sky as my Muse's primary plotline...

* * *

 **Parenting is not a Varia Quality**

Since it was barely early afternoon and he'd finally got his feet back under him, Maínomai decided that he wanted to go back out and have a look around the places Mab had recommended they house-hunt in, just to get a feel for the area, see what and who was already there and possibly even see if they could accidentally-on-purpose find Talbot's place. Mab had made it pretty clear she wanted that message passing on so Maínomai wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible; having that hanging over his head indefinitely wasn't his idea of fun. Besides, he rather liked the new Lightning Ladies Squalo had brought home and he agreed they needed all the positive role-models they could get; the mafia very firmly pigeonholed female Lightnings as seduction specialists, which was basically sexual exploitation. Doninha and Kayc deserved better!

Pýř agreed that location-hunting was better done sooner than later, so since they had the rest of the day and all of tomorrow they may as well start. It wasn't like there was anything else they could do at the moment. Thus the two of them ended up back in the car, driving down towards Santa Cristina Gela and then out along the crushed limestone road between the fields, up towards the long, high ridge that separated the valley they were in from the neighbouring one. It was a nice afternoon for a drive despite it being February, with clear skies and only a slight breeze, so Maínomai busied himself looking out of the windows and trying to spot likely-looking houses on the slopes ahead.

There weren't actually very many farms up on this particular hillside, or much cover either; most of what he could see was grassy fields with the occasional clump of trees. It was all overshadowed by the ridge ahead and the one on their left, which gave Maínomai an itchy feeling in his head now that he was really noticing the landscape.

"It's all farms along the left," he grumbled aloud, "and they're all incredibly exposed."

Pýř nodded in agreement.

"I mean really, the view from up there must be great but without any trees screening the buildings I bet we could see them as well from down here and they can see us from up there. Never mind that it being an east-west ridge means that the sun is always shining on it so it would be incredibly hard to disguise any gleaming metal. You couldn't snipe anybody without them noticing!"

Eventually they reached the end of the ridge where the road divided to either turn and follow the ridge itself or descend into the valley towards Marineo, so Pýř turned left. Up close the ridge looked even more promising: the view out of the windows on the right was excellent, all the way down the hillside to Santa Cristina Gela and back towards the Varia Mansion, while the ridge on their left was patchily forested and apparently uninhabited. Maínomai wondered where it was exactly that Talbot lived; now that he was up here he didn't think there were many places you could hide a farmhouse, especially not one with a workshop attached. It might be disguised by the trees or tucked into a crevice or even on the other side of the ridge, but still.

"Ooh, stop! Look! A path!" Maínomai was out of the car almost before Pýř could slam on the breaks –they weren't going that fast anyway– making the Cloud growl under his breath as the Mist bounced out of the car, across the road and up into the trees. There had to be a good view up here somewhere!

The view was only a few meters away, in fact: the top of the ridge was just above the place where Pýř had stopped, giving Maínomai a feeling of being on top of the world and a good view along the entire ridge both ways. There was a distinct shortage of actual structures though…

"Pýř, I think we might have to _build_ a house," Maínomai said, his mind pulling up all kinds of fun possibilities. "There's not much up here beyond maybe four farms and they're all inhabited and farmers tend to be really, really stubborn and hard to move. We'll probably have to buy a plot of land, get planning permission for a holiday cabin or something then start from scratch. That might actually be cheaper then renovating though. It would certainly be more fun! Let's have a look…"

His partner grabbed his sleeve and dragged him back down to the car. "We want to be close to the road," Pýř reminded him. "Let's go along to the end, see what else there is then decide."

"Okay!" Maínomai obligingly got back in the car, still craning his neck and trying to look in all directions at once.

The road gradually curved back around towards Santa Cristina Gela and they'd just driven past a low-lying, flat-roofed barn when Maínomai saw something out the window that made him reach out and grab Pýř's arm.

"Stop the car," he said urgently.

Pýř instantly hit the brakes, taking them slightly off the limestone track so other vehicles could get past; not that there was a lot of traffic but it was still polite. Maínomai barely noticed though; his mind was spinning wildly as he tried to find a reason for his memory suddenly failing him. How had that happened? It didn't happen! He was easily distracted yes, but he didn't just _forget_ things like this, especially not important work-related things! What–

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of the downward spiral.

"What's wrong?" Pýř demanded.

Maínomai took a deep, shaking breath and willed away the panic. "Pýř, Talbot's apprentice is green."

Pýř glanced at him sideways, silently demanding clarification.

"That guy we just drove past was green. Green hair, green roll-neck jumper, green trousers, green everything. Why did I forget we were going to look for Talbot's place so as to pass on Mab's message? I don't forget that kind of thing! I want it out of the way as soon as possible because it's important and Mab might change her mind about Cursing me if I don't do it! Why did I stop thinking about it? It doesn't make sense!"

"Calm," Pýř said firmly, his hand on Maínomai's shoulder gripping firmly and shaking the Mist a little. "We should have expected Talbot to have defences."

"Oh. Yes; of course Talbot would have defences. Making people who were looking for him forget they were looking for him is pretty sneaky really; does anybody know what Talbot's flame-type is?"

Pýř shrugged. "Shall we turn around and catch up with this guy?"

Mainomai bolted out the car and back up the slope; better to be on foot since their target was too. "Hey!" He called out in Italian. "Hey, wait!"

The man supposedly called Cavaliere paused, turning around as the Mist ran towards him. "What's up?" the greenet asked, green eyes flicking over Maínomai from head to toe with particular attention paid to his hands, feet and the places his weapons were hidden. Interesting…

"Hi!" Maínomai chirped, grinning brightly. "My colleague and I are house-hunting and you look local! Can we walk with you for a bit and take in the area?"

Cavaliere gave him a very flat look tinged with a hint of humour; clearly the guy didn't believe a word of it, but then again he'd been working for Talbot for over two years now and had probably heard about the Varia. Considering he and Pýř –who had parked the car properly and was coming up behind him– were in uniform, it would have been more disappointing had the guy _not_ been suspicious.

"You're looking for a house, eh?" Cavaliere said, fiddling with one of the straps on his rucksack and hefting the bag hanging from his left hand slightly. "Well, I suppose I can show you where the abandoned ones are and tell you which of the locals might be willing to sell."

"That'd be great, thanks!" Maínomai said brightly, bouncing forwards then turning around so he could look at Cavaliere while walking backwards up the hill. "What's your name?"

"Cavaliere," the green man said easily, looking him dead in the eye. "Cavaliere Verde."

Green Knight? This guy had to be both well-educated in Arthurian mythology and have a sense of humour to call himself something like _that_. "Really? I know a Verde," Maínomai mentioned despite being almost entirely certain that the ring-smith's apprentice had nothing to do with the Lightning Arcobaleno despite the obvious resemblance in colouring and Flame-type. "He's a scientist; are you related?"

"I am unaware of any scientists in my immediate family," Cavaliere said calmly. "Who might you be, stranger?"

"Maínomai!" the Mist said brightly.

"I'm sure you are," Cavaliere said dryly; Maínomai was pretty sure that meant the other man understood enough Greek to know what the name meant.

"This is my friend Pýř!" Maínomai went on, grabbing his partner's wrist for a moment so he could drag the Cloud into Cavaliere's field of vision. Of course, that meant he had to let go quickly and duck the blow aimed at his shoulder for manhandling Pýř so casually, but that was no problem.

"Friend," Cavaliere repeated, deadpan.

"Yup, friend!" Maínomai was generally very good at coaxing people into reacting to him but this guy was a tough nut to crack. He seemed to remember hearing that Ganauche III had complained this guy was like a very green brick wall but Maínomai hadn't thought it was this bad. Cavaliere's eyes fell on Pýř for several long moments.

"Good friends are hard to find," the man commented eventually, voice utterly bland. Maínomai wasn't entirely sure if he was being commended for having good taste or condemned for having poor taste; this guy was _good_. It was positively unfair! He'd have to find _something_ to trip him up with just so as not to lose face! That'd be tricky but people gave up more than they realised even without lowering their defences and putting the clues together as fun!

"They're totally worth it though," Maínomai said with a genuine smile, persevering doggedly in his attempts to establish some kind of connection. Cavaliere actually blinked at him this time.

"True," the greenet said, inclining his head in acknowledgement. "What kind of house are you looking for?"

It was a fairly obvious change of subject but it was also a subtle lowering of Cavaliere's defences, so Maínomai happily rambled on about privacy and good views and decent access as they headed further on up the hill.

They had made it all the way back up to the edge of the wooded ridge by the time Cavaliere stopped walking. Maínomai immediately stopped nattering about trees and looked around to see why they'd stopped. There wasn't anything here, just a gate leading to a field of sheep and a small barn next to the field.

"I will ask my Master if he is willing to give me the rest of the day off, so I can show you around the area," Cavaliere said with a faint smile. "After all, if we are to be neighbours we should get off to a proper start."

Maínomai got the impression Cavaliere had seen right though his cheery chatter, which wasn't a nice feeling. It made him want to take his machete to that blank, bland face and _force_ a reaction beyond that bland smile. He was Varia quality, damn it! He wasn't that easy to read!

"That'd be great, thanks!" Was what the Mist actually said though; maiming Talbot's apprentice would not win him any points and Mab would probably forgo Cursing him in favour of skinning him. Maínomai could unravel Mist-Curses given enough time but he'd rather not have to and getting skinned would be _worse_ ; the Varia didn't bluff about things like that.

Cavaliere then vaulted easily over the gate despite his shopping and strode up the hillside through the flock of sheep, some of which ambled over to butt against his legs as he walked up the field and into the trees.

"Sheep are generally shy," Pýř said thoughtfully, staring after the greenet.

Maínomai hadn't known that; he was a city boy. "So they know him?" He extrapolated. "Hey, do you think these are guard sheep?"

"Sheep aren't aggressive," Pýř said, amused, "not like geese are. What's in the barn?"

Maínomai looked at the barn, which was padlocked from the outside and therefore unlikely to be for keeping sheep in. It was the work of a moment to climb up onto the roof –the view from up there was very nice– and peek in through a gap left by a fallen tile.

"A car," he determined after a moment. "Quite an old car, but it looks like it's in use. Talbot has a car? How does he see where he's going? He wears a blindfold all the time. I don't know if he's actually blind or if it's just for the hell of it, but you can't drive a car while blindfolded, not even if you're a Mist. Well, you can but it's tricky and likely to go wrong if you don't pay attention. I've never heard of Talbot driving anywhere though, so maybe it's Cavaliere's car? But if it is, why was he walking up the hill? Wouldn't it be easier to drive to the village rather than walk when he had all that shopping to buy?"

"A training exercise?" Pýř suggested.

"It's possible I suppose, but why? I don't see how physical fitness is particularly necessary for a ring-smith so Talbot is unlikely to order him to do it," Maínomai mused, still perched on the roof, "but then again he calls himself 'Knight' and is supposedly completely devoted to this 'Lady' of his, so maybe he's trying to stay in shape despite re-training in a more sedentary occupation? Is he doing ring-smithing because he wants to or because his Lady wants an expert and he was the most suited?"

Pýř shrugged; Maínomai supposed that it wasn't immediately relevant, but knowing would give him some insight into the unusual Lightning's mindset. He was going to pay very close attention to Knight and riddle something out; there was a reason he was always welcome to pitch in at Information and it wasn't just that he and Pýř got bored between campaigns. Now, how did Knight's mysterious Lady, Seer and the other attendees at the tea-party Massimo had wrecked with his thoughtless interruption fit into the puzzle?

* * *

Pýř could tell that his partner was finding the Lightning's deliberate stonewalling _really_ frustrating, possibly because it _was_ deliberate and not the more usual utter incomprehension that Maínomai was faced with when trying to socialise with Lightnings. Unlike most of the Varia's Lightnings, this guy was definitely _extremely_ socially competent… and choosing to be difficult. That refusal to engage was what was getting his partner's goat and making his fingers twitch, which was why Pýř had offered up the barn and its contents as a distraction.

It took nearly half an hour for Cavaliere to return, but return he did… with an actual medieval kite shield slung across his back, also green. Maínomai was staring openly as he slid off the roof of the barn, so Pýř tried to be a bit more discreet.

"You're bringing your shield along?" his partner asked as soon as the Lightning opened the gate in the field. The greenet glanced over at Pýř, then looked Maínomai straight in the eye:

"Now we are all armed," he said simply. Even Pýř could hear the unspoken gauntlet being thrown down _there_ ; that was pretty damn unsubtle.

"Does that really matter?" Maínomai huffed, pouting. Cavaliere shrugged, closing the gate behind him, but did not say anything more on the subject.

"I have been given the afternoon off; there are seven farmhouses worth looking at in this area, two of which are completely ruined and one of which is derelict. Of the other four, three are occupied."

"Skip the occupied ones," Pýř said firmly. It was February and there wasn't all that much time left until sunset, so they'd be better off just looking at the empty properties.

Cavaliere nodded and set off up the hill at about ninety degrees to where he'd come from, forcing the two Varia to catch up. The Lightning kept up a good pace; it was almost a forced march.

Then Pýř noticed the humming.

It was perfectly tuneful humming, clearly being used to keep time as Cavaliere strode up the slope, but it took Pýř a few moments to place the extremely familiar tune. Maínomai placed it at about the same time;

"Live and Let Die?" his partner asked, in English this time, as Cavaliere hummed a rapid and perfectly tuneful riff, segueing into the song's bridge. "That's an unusual marching song."

"It felt appropriate," the Lightning replied shortly, also in English, before continuing his humming.

Pýř had a very definite feeling that if _this_ was what Lightnings were usually like, he could maybe understand a little why those early Mafiosi had decided to stamp the personality out of them. They were being taunted! Blatantly taunted, even. He'd be relying on Maínomai to ferret out subtle details here; the Cloud just needed to pay attention and put things together in case his partner missed the obvious in his zeal. Cavaliere, his associates and his unknown Lady were rather notorious in certain circles, so any information gained would have value and not just because the Varia wanted some more Lightnings free of the brainwashing the Mafia put them through. Preferably someone who wasn't as innately irritating as Cavaliere was being, though.

By the time they'd reached the second farmhouse Cavaliere had tired of humming that particular tune. However the tune he picked next was not any better:

"Hey driver, where're we going; I swear, my nerves are showing; set my hopes up way too high; living's in the way we die…"

The Lightning had a really pleasant singing voice, but that didn't change the fact that Pýř was never going to be able to watch 'The Living Daylights' ever again without imagining Cavaliere as James Bond rather than Timothy Dalton. Or the fact that he had Varia-levels of physical fitness going on; they'd been going at a good pace for nearly two hours now and the guy wasn't even breathing hard despite the distance between the two farmhouses and the constant humming.

While they were at the third farmhouse –which was the half-derelict one– Maínomai clambered up onto the rickety roof to get a better look at the sight-lines and dragged his partner up after him. While they were up there Cavaliere changed songs again.

"Meeting you, with a view, to a kill…"

Pýř nearly laughed that time; it was at least ironically accurate. Maínomai didn't seem to appreciate his impromptu theme tune though and dropped back to ground level with a huff.

"This one's okay but I liked the one before better even though it was basically just foundations; the terrain was better and it actually had road access. This one's a bit too remote and doesn't have a proper all-round view. Can we move on to the next one? It's the one in the best condition, right? Since the other two were ruins and this one's all but falling down?"

The Lightning nodded, still singing, gesturing expansively along the path to their left before setting off up it in the lead.

"The choice for you, is the view, to a kill. Between the shades, assassination, standing still…"

Maínomai twitched. Pýř had never before seen anybody wind up his partner so effortlessly and was somewhat fascinated by how effective it was.

* * *

Maínomai was a Mist and all that it implied, for all that he wasn't as mean or as petty as a number of others raised in the Mafia; he was currently busy comparing and thinking while keeping up a stream of chatter and noting reactions. It wasn't that different from the information gathering he normally did on missions or on the side for Information between campaigns. The problem was Cavaliere's deliberate non-reactions and blocking as Maínomai couldn't find out what was a safe topic or not. Pretty much every topic was shut down as soon as he brought it up, so he was frustrated. They were so few areas still open that he'd have to get rude soon and he didn't want to do that.

Maínomai rarely had this amount of trouble swaying anyone to give up any bit of information, knowingly or not. Actually, he had never had this much trouble, as the only things Cavaliere had given up so far were that he was fluent in English and liked Bond movies enough to sing the songs word and pitch perfect, which implied musical talent or training. Cavaliere also knew enough Greek to understand his Varia-name or at least get the joke. That was interesting but only when put together with the rest of the gossip about Seer, Coccodrillo and the lady known as Veritas if Maínomai was remembering his gossip right; it had been a year ago after all but it was still a popular topic in some circles.

So, what did an Indian girl like Seer, the others that appeared at that tea party –Veritas, Coccodrillo, Cavaliere– and this mysterious Lady that Cavaliere was sworn to have in common? Cavaliere only rolled his r's in Italian and Sicilian and he didn't have the bad habits of those who had learned English as a second language, like pronouncing a few words wrong or an incomplete comprehension either; those songs were chosen for a reason. Maínomai hadn't got the apprentice ring-smith to react to anything he had said in languages outside of English, Italian and Sicilian; unlike Pýř this guy wasn't faking ignorance of German or the few other languages he tried. He just didn't know them. It was how Maínomai knew that Cavaliere wasn't fluent in Greek, although he certainly knew enough to get the jist of the more formal terms; possibly a Classical education?

The two most important things for a Mist to have were vision and knowledge, so Maínomai had honed his knowledge –especially in languages– after being recruited since he didn't have to learn Flames or work on his physical ability either. He had ended up spending most of his apprentice year after recruitment learning things that he hadn't had the chance to try before or were deliberately omitted in classrooms in Communist Romania, since trying to learn or teach more risked calling the Securitate down on you; he had risked that a few times but he had fortunately learned to use Flames to cover for it soon after first activating them. Bucharest had been spared the worst of the shortages but that didn't mean they didn't still have issues due to the Austerity Policy. Worse still had been the Securitate in the last few years. Now Maínomai could use all that knowledge gained both in the classroom and while travelling for profiling.

So the green brick wall was probably English and had a terrible sense of humour to name himself Cavaliere Verde. It explained Seer's connection, as didn't Britian and India have strong ties still? Cavaliere was also terribly devoted to his Lady –just the Lady, not her husband– so chances were she was a Sky; it reminded him of how Levi thought of Boss, except this guy wasn't seeking approval constantly and was therefore very secure in his Lady's regard for him. That Cavaliere was here instead of at her side also meant that he trusted those around her with her safety in his absence.

That meant a number of combat capable people, which explained Veritas and Coccodrillo, who if she was English was probably really called Crocodile. Those people were at least around Cavaliere's level in combat if not better; Cavaliere was a defence that people crashed into and broke against, so sparring between him and his colleagues had to be interesting. Maínomai suspected that Cavaliere probably fought better with a partner than solo, especially if he was facing someone with more stamina than him. Not that the Mist let all these thoughts show up in his chatter –he was sticking to Italian now since Cavaliere –Knight? – knew that language, with the occasional drift towards German and English.

"Oh, look that's the final house to see! Well, the first two were all foundations but this one looks nice and not a grown-over wreck with a roof like the third. What do you think of the house, Pýř?" The Mist asked, mixing languages; no reason to make it more obvious that he had been testing Cavaliere's linguistic capacities if the Lightning hadn't picked up on that yet.

Pýř shrugged. "It's not terribly exposed, but some landscaping can fix that."

"Pýř knows landscaping?" Maínomai asked, not having known that before. He then muttered, "Why am I not surprised?" His friend really had done an odd series of jobs before he joined the Varia; it left the Cloud with an eclectic skill set.

"Is it all right to enter?" Pýř asked Cavaliere. "Or do we have to talk to whoever owns this for keys?"

"I don't believe you really need the keys." The Lightning said.

Maínomai took it as permission to break in; the lock required less than a thought to open. Investigating it, the house was nice although a few rooms were smaller than he'd like. There were also fewer rooms than he'd like; two bedrooms and a small front room which could feasibly hold a couch. That'd be three 'beds' which had him frowning as where was the room for Erica and the child's bedroom? He and Pýř could double up for a while but it was best not to do that in the long term; they got in each-other's way. That bedroom or rooms could be added on but even so... practically every room would have to be renovated out of security anyway which might make the rooms even smaller! Add on updating the kitchen... it was probably best to use the one that was just foundations or nearly so and build up or down from there. Worst-case scenario they get some land and had to do everything themselves... did Pýř know architecture and construction?

Letting his partner scout the interior himself, Maínomai pouted as he thought. Four bedrooms would be best and one could even be set up with bunk beds; about the only people he intended to have over were those in the know about Erica's pregnancy so one bunk-room for visiting Varia and one for his child were needed in addition to rooms for himself and Pýř. Maybe five? To have one for Erica? So two bathrooms or could they get by with one? With a baby, two would probably be smarter… one could double as a laundry room. A nice kitchen because they'd have to cook for themselves since they wouldn't have Varia Housekeeping prepare things in advance. Maínomai wasn't much of a cook as what he knew was mostly limited to his native dishes but he could learn more.

"Too small." Pýř commented.

"Do you need an escort back?" Cavaliere asked.

"Lead on, Englishman." Maínomai smiled. "To your English Lady and beyond."

* * *

Pýř had long since developed an instinct for impending trouble. He had also long since learned it was best to prepare and plan for it as best as possible; no matter what kind of trouble might emerge. Being over-prepared was better than under-prepared. Partnering with Maínomai kept that sense of trouble sharp as it was attracted to the kleptomaniac.

Cavaliere Verde had remained polite and personable despite his intentionally annoying choice in music. Now however that little smile had vanished and combined with the general blandness it made the Lightning look far from happy. No trace of killing intent yet, which admittedly meant nothing from a Lightning.

And his partner hadn't shut up yet; "And if your Lady has anyone that has Varia Quality that wants to join, we wouldn't say no."

His partner was an idiot that needed sense shook into him. Pýř could _feel_ the volume of Lightning Flames the green-man had under his command, swirling under his skin and making the gem of the ring on his right forefinger glow faintly, matching Cavaliere's now slightly luminous eyes.

The apprentice ring-smith stared for a long moment before slowly saying, "I agree to pass your message on to my Lady…"

Pýř watched as Cavaliere reigned in his impulse to maim the Mist. Pýř could still feel it in the build up of static in the air, not the uncontrolled crackle of an electric storm but the steady, measured hum of a high-voltage power plant. Talbot's apprentice really _wanted_ to do something messy and permanent to his partner, but was reigning himself in. The Cloud had never really been the praying sort, but what he was seeing was well worth lighting a candle in thanks at the Varia's private chapel. Cavaliere as he was right now could probably outmatch Levi in raw power alone.

"..if, and only if you'll stop this line of inquiry towards my Lady, keep any conclusions you already have secret and pass on this offer: Talbot has declared me ready to make B- and A-rank rings of all varieties, in preparation for my journeyman trials next year. Provided the Varia is in fact interested?"

"I'll pass that along to Captain Squalo." Pýř said as he pulled his partner close and put a hand over that idiot's big mouth. "And keep this idiot quiet."

"Very well. The same conditions apply."

And if that wasn't a blatant if unsaid 'or else' then Pýř needed his head checked.

"I see no issue with that. We'll see ourselves back to our vehicle," the Cloud said, keeping his hand firmly over his partner's mouth as he dragged the idiot back towards the road.

"I'll escort you regardless."

At least the Lightning wasn't humming songs from Bond movies as they headed down the hill, but Pýř couldn't place the new tune...

* * *

Pýř kept his hand plastered across the Mist's face all the way to the car, silently manhandled his partner into the vehicle as Cavaliere scrutinised them from the top of the verge and then _glared_ until Maínomai signed a promise not to say anything. Then and only then did he let go, close the passenger side door and walk around the car so he could get in the driver's side. Cavaliere did not say anything either; the Lightning just watched as Pýř got the engine into gear and drove off.

The Cloud pushed the hyper-responsive steering pretty hard on the drive back to the Varia mansion to vent some of his frustration. Fortunately for his simmering temper his partner had noticed his anger and was sitting quietly, staring into space; it was possible this was the post-Placebo energy crash catching up with the Mist at last and if so Pýř was grateful. It gave him time and space to think.

Firstly, Pýř was very, _very_ lucky that Cavaliere _was_ a socially competent and very savvy Lightning, because any _normal_ Mafia Lightning would have attempted to murder Maínomai before the Mist had even finished speaking, then turned on the Cloud in order to make a clean sweep of things. They might not both have died –it was highly unlikely that Cavaliere would have succeeded in murdering them both as they were Varia Quality– but they would have got into deep, _deep_ trouble with Mab, Squalo _and_ Talbot for antagonising the Lightning and potentially damaging him. Cavaliere's Lady probably wouldn't have been happy either and with Boss on ice, the Varia really didn't have a solid enough standing to politick their way out of heavy-duty restitution. That would have made them extremely unpopular; potentially fatally so.

Secondly, Cavaliere was prepared to bribe the Varia into silence rather than just settle for threats. That was a good sign: it suggested he wasn't going to cut all contact after Maínomai's blunder, which in turn meant they could probably go ahead and buy the ruined farmhouse without worrying about the Lightning hovering in the wings, waiting for the opportune moment to cash in his grudge. Give it a few weeks and it might be safe to drag Maínomai back up there to apologise.

Thirdly, Cavaliere's Lady probably _did_ have Varia quality Lightnings working for her, because if she didn't the apprentice ring-smith would have asked what counted as Quality. Everyone in the Mafia knew that to get accepted into the Varia a person needed to speak seven languages and be capable of using Flames, but most people also knew that not meeting those standards could be overlooked if other suitable qualities were demonstrated. Ergo, Cavaliere knew his Lady had sufficiently polyglot Flame-users working for her.

Fourthly, they'd both have to keep their mouths shut about most of what had actually happened in order to cash in on Cavaliere's offer. Well, they could explain some of it to Squalo as the Captain would be the one arranging any deals, but Mab could only be told the bare minimum; namely that Maínomai had been an idiot, threatened the anonymity of Cavaliere's Lady and nearly gotten himself killed. Pýř was going to have to beat sense into his partner again, because that kind of recklessness just wasn't right when Maínomai was going to be a parent soon!

* * *

By the time Pýř had manhandled him into the car, Maínomai had gotten the feeling that maybe he'd gone slightly too far in trying to prod details out of Cavaliere. Possibly. Just a little bit.

After fleeing Squalo's office, his ears ringing from the Rain Officer's bellowing, the Mist realised that he probably shouldn't have got so caught up in the fine details. Details didn't do you any good if you missed impending doom looming over the horizon. Pýř would have said he had tomatoes for eyes which was one of those German idioms.

"Could we not tell Erica about this? Please?" He asked his partner meekly as they paused for breath on the upper landing.

Pýř glared. "She'll find out," the Cloud warned him.

Oh; she would, wouldn't she? Mab and Kuchisake were bound to mention this at the meeting the day after tomorrow, possibly as proof that Maínomai was utterly irresponsible and needed constant management. Erica would be upset by the idea of him nearly getting himself injured in supposedly friendly territory and–

–wait. "I wasn't Stupid, was I?" Maínomai begged in hushed tones, wide eyes on Pýř's face.

"Not quite," the Cloud admitted grudgingly. Maínomai's knees went a bit weak in sheer relief; he was probably safe then.

"Maínomai! Thú gòrach amdan!"

The Mist paled; nope, not safe after all, not with Mab after him!

* * *

By Wednesday lunchtime Mab had mostly calmed down again, largely thanks to Kuchisake stepping in to defend her 'kawaii kohai' and pointing out that, despite almost getting himself maimed, Maínomai _had_ delivered the message _and_ prompted Cavaliere to offer his smithing services to the Varia. It had all turned out for the best, which was what mattered and it wasn't like Maínomai was going to do anything that dumb ever again, _right_?

Maínomai had promised not to allow irritating Lightnings to provoke him into carelessness ever again –with Pýř agreeing to remind him should he look like he was forgetting– and so the trip to the Iron Fort in the early afternoon was reasonably pleasant. Maínomai and Pýř were both in their usual uniforms, Mab was wearing the Varia Housekeeping uniform –which differed from the standard Varia uniform only by involving a suit jacket, a tie and dress shoes rather than boots– and Kuchisake, as threatened, was wearing a stunning swishy dress in watered silk, a shawl around her shoulders and high heels. She'd even brushed her hair and pinned it up in a chic knot on the back of her head, making the black stitches over the scarred half-smile marring her right cheek even more incongruous. Kuchisake usually looked creepy because that was how she _wanted_ to look, not because she wasn't utterly stunningly gorgeous. Kuchisake would probably play with the newbies' minds later since she'd gone through the effort of making models envious of her looks and seeing her break brains was always good for a laugh.

They were met at the main front door of the mansion –which Maínomai hadn't actually used to get in before– by a civilian-looking member of Vongola Housekeeping wearing a serving uniform of closely tailored trousers, a black shirt and a waist-apron marked with the Vongola crest in the lower corner. He looked utterly inoffensive too, which was a neat trick.

" _Signora_ Mab, former Mist Officer, _Signora_ Kuchisake, Mist Squad Leader, _Signor_ Pýř, Squad Leader and _Signor_ Maínomai?" he asked, pronouncing all the names so perfectly that somebody had probably told him how to do so beforehand. He had likely even practiced doing so.

"Yes, that's us," Kuchisake said sweetly, slipping out of her coat and handing it over to the still nameless underling who had been tasked with meeting them. Maínomai wondered if he'd upset his superiors recently or if he was being considered for a promotion. Either was possible really…

The man took the coat, his reaction to the Mist Squad Leader's facial scarring limited to a brief pause and glance at the rest of the party. "Would the ladies and gentlemen follow me, please? You are expected."

"So polite!" Kuchisake cooed, reaching up to chuckle the unfortunate minion under the chin before grabbing his arm and forcing him to escort her along the hallway. "I just want to eat you up! Can I take you home with me?"

Maínomai slammed a hand over his mouth to muffle the snickers trying to escape. The poor guy had that slightly vacant helpless look that some Rains got when they had no clue how to deal with someone.

"That's very kind of you to say so, _Signora_ ," the minion managed as they turned into the Vongola Family Wing, "but you would have to take the matter up with _Signora_ Daniela."

"You work for Ottava?" Mab asked.

The minion glanced at her. "Yes, _Signora_ ; we will reach her presently."

"Wait, Ottava's hosting the meeting?" Maínomai asked, feeling his panic starting to rise again. "When did this happen?"

The minion turned another corner, opened a door and led them into… a cloakroom. He then hung up Kuchisake's coat, accepted Mab's and then turned back to look at Maínomai, who had recovered a little bit of his poise.

" _Signorina_ Erica is very dear to her grandmother," the servant said kindly, "and as _Signora_ Maria-Chiara is completely swamped by the preparations for this year's Valentine's Day Ball, _Signora_ Daniela agreed to host the meeting on her behalf. As is her right as senior member of the family, in fact." The way the possibly-a-latent-Rain said the word 'family' indicated he meant those of the Vongola bloodline rather than the entire Mafia organisation, the existence of which he might or might not have been aware of. " _Signor_ Vongola is aware of his granddaughter's pregnancy, but has been reassured that his mother has the matter well in hand so he will not be involving himself. _Signor_ Federico is waiting with _Signora_ Daniela and _Signorina_ Erica, but will be leaving presently for a business meeting."

"Is Lal Mirch here yet?" Mab asked, taking advantage of this unusual helpfulness while Maínomai silently thanked the Universe for the advance warning he was being given. Now he knew what was coming he could plan a bit.

"Not yet; _Signora_ Ottava sent _Signor_ Nebbia with a car to fetch her," the minion replied easily. "Are you ready to move on?"

Maínomai realised the question was directed at him and that this brief detour had been entirely for his benefit. That was the nicest thing any stranger had done for him in quite some time. "Yes, thank-you for warning me," he managed, beaming at the servant. "What's your name, and why were you assigned to meet us?"

The minion's lips twitched. "I am _Signora_ Daniela's latest subordinate, and I have recently been officially designated as 'Accomplice'."

Kuchisake cackled. "Ooh, fantastic! You'll go far, treasure! Now, show us in would you?"

* * *

Erica sat on the sofa in her great-grandma's sitting room, sipping hibiscus tea and feeling rather outnumbered. It really wasn't fair that Skies were allowed –expected even– to have up to six people around them backing them up at any given time when nobody else was afforded that advantage. Being in a family full of Skies was incredibly hard work, as you not only had to deal with your relatives but your relatives' support groups.

Currently her great-grandma was alone, but that would change as soon as great-uncle Nebbia got back with Lal Mirch. Her Uncle Federico on the other hand had two of his Guardians hovering behind his chair: Hamlet and Lear. Hamlet was his Mist and a woman, while Lear was his Sun and the proud father of two pre-teen boys.

Erica had no idea why her uncle had decided to name his Guardians after various tragic Shakespearean leading men, but it was at least slightly better than her grandfather's cake-based naming system. Uncle Enrico's decision to name his Guardians after flowers hadn't been much better than the cake thing; what was wrong with trees or cities?

Then the door opened and the young man her great-grandmother called 'Accomplice' showed Maínomai and Pýř into the room, accompanied by Kuchisake and Mab, the latter of whom was wearing the Varia version of the senior Housekeeping uniform. Maínomai immediately joined her on the couch, Pýř walking around to stand behind it as Kuchisake settled herself on Maínomai's other side and Accomplice –she really did need to find out what his real name was– fetched another armchair for Mab to sit in. Accomplice then left, so as to assure their privacy.

"Maínomai, names?" Erica asked quietly, glancing over at the petite, ginger-haired woman who seated herself with the self-possessed dignity of a queen; she wasn't sure if Federico knew who everyone was, although she'd already described both Maínomai and Pýř to him so as to prevent 'accidents'.

"Ah, right. This is Kuchisake; that's Mab. Kuchisake is Mist Squad Leader and Mab used to be before she retired about eighteen months back and joined Housekeeping," Maínomai said, reaching out to squeeze her free hand. "Mab wants to be godmother, if that's okay with you?" The request for permission was very clearly tacked on, proving that her sweet but scatterbrained friend hadn't actually considered her opinion before offering his former leader the position and was only now realising it.

"It is Traditional among Vongola for each parent to appoint two godparents," Erica informed the father of her child with a small smile, "preferably one of each gender, to ensure that the child will have plenty of strong role-models growing up. As Amadeo's father was not in the picture, Federico picked out two of his godparents instead; Hamlet over there and his Rain, Antony."

Maínomai glanced at the impeccably coiffed, power-suited woman with the blood red hair, glanced back at Erica and mouthed 'Hamlet?' in utter confusion.

"My uncle named his Guardians after Shakespearean tragic leads," Erica said, loud enough for all the Varia to hear clearly although she had no doubt that both the ladies knew it already. "I still think he should have called his Mist 'Cleopatra' and his Rain 'Hamlet' though."

"My Guardians, my rules," Federico said with a smile; the name thing was a favourite point of contention between her and her uncle. "So this is your boy-toy?"

Over to Maínomai's left, Kuchisake shook with suppressed laughter and Mab sniggered behind her hand. Maínomai grinned sheepishly. "Erm, yes? I suppose? She did ask me out first and it was always her making all the important decisions."

Erica had to wonder what kind of 'important decisions' a low-key if month-long fling really involved for men. Maínomai had been very accommodating to her work for the CEDEF, which he had recognised as important so he had allowed her to decide if they were going out or staying in.

Federico promptly _roared_ with laughter. "Oh, I do like you," he finally managed in between chuckles, "even if you're not all there. My baby brother always had the most _interesting_ taste in people; it's good to see his Guardians aren't letting the Family down in that respect." Which was a compliment really, for all that Federico's complements were usually back-handed at best and outright _strange_ the rest of the time.

"I still think _Nonna_ should have you castrated," her uncle continued, still utterly affable, "but I'm willing to let it lie for the time being. See you later, Erica; I'm still getting you that dog for Liberation Day." With that Federico got up and left the room, both Guardians following behind him.

"Your uncle wanted to have me castrated?" Maínomai asked, eyes very wide.

Erica leaned into his shoulder. "When I got into the mess that left me pregnant with Amadeo, Federico was the one to come to my rescue," she explained. "He took over the investigation, ensured the follow-up was _exceedingly_ thorough, made sure the charges against the men who'd taken advantage of my school-friends stuck and then persuaded _Nonno_ to institute the Traditional punishments as laid down by Sesto for that kind of thing, as an example to everyone. He's a bit overprotective of me these days."

"He's a shameless womaniser," Maínomai pointed out, clearly utterly bemused by the blatant hypocrisy.

"Well, yes: he knows exactly how bad men can get and doesn't want me anywhere near that kind of person," Erica admitted dryly. "He's the main reason I've been able to successfully avoid _all_ of the various Vongola parties for the past five years, you know: he _really_ doesn't want me meeting all his friends and hangers-on."

Across the low table Erica's great-grandmother cackled with glee. "My grandson is utterly ridiculous," she agreed candidly, "but he does care for his family. I do wonder what my youngest grandson would make of this; he and my great-granddaughter grew up together, you know."

Maínomai clearly _hadn't_ known, because he went a very unhealthy grey colour. Erica reached over and bopped her panicky friend on the nose. "Stop that, _Bisnonna_! You know Xanxus always let me do whatever I wanted! Remember, he'd say that nobody was ever going to respect me if I didn't stand on my own two feet and kick people in the teeth when they pissed me off!"

"True, he did _say_ that," the old lady agreed, eyes sparkling naughtily, "But you were still his niece and favourite relative. Did you never wonder why all those teenage boys at the young people's parties were so polite?"

"I thought it was because they were terrified of Nebbia," Erica deadpanned. "Or of Visconti, or Othello, or Moro that one time Massimo told him to 'ensure I was treated with the respect appropriate for a daughter of the Vongola'. I never, ever managed to attend a single one of those parties without _some_ Guardian or other hovering six feet behind me and glaring at anybody who so much as narrowed their eyes at me."

"That may have been a factor, yes," her great-grandmother conceded graciously, "but my baby grandson was the one who threatened to set people on fire if they, ahem, 'talked shit about his niece'."

Beside Erica Maínomai cringed and the Rain decided that enough was enough. " _Bisnonna_ , stop," she said firmly, glaring across the room at her utterly unrepentant relative. "The only person who will be setting Maínomai on fire will be _me_ , and I will only do that when _I_ feel he deserves it. Understood?"

"Very well, dear," the eccentric former Donna said mildly. "Would you like more tea, Erica?"

"Yes please," Erica said, willing her Flames to subside again.

"Shall I pour?" Maínomai asked, glancing around the room.

"That would be lovely, thank-you," Erica said quietly. The next few minutes passed peacefully, with drinks served and Mab engaging Great-Grandmother in general Family gossip until the door opened again to admit Nebbia with Lal Mirch perched on his shoulder.

"Lal, how lovely to see you!" Great-Grandmother said brightly. "Do take a seat; would you like tea? It's hibiscus tea, since my Erica is expecting."

"That would be lovely, thank-you Daniela," Lal Mirch said in her high, sweet voice, every syllable sharply enunciated.

"Nebbia!" Great-Grandmother said brightly, prompting her Mist Guardian to pour out a cup of tea and hand it to the toddler-sized former soldier. The whole reason the meeting was taking place in a sitting room was so that everybody was sat on low chairs, thus reducing the difference in head-height between the Arcobaleno and the other adults. Looking around the room, Great-Grandmother smiled.

"Now, I think it's time we started, don't you?"

* * *

Maínomai had not considered that his Boss was related to his ex-lover. He'd known it –it was obvious since Erica was Vongola and even if Boss lacked the blood he was still Vongola– but he hadn't realised the implications. Now he _had_ realised said implications –and that Erica was Boss's _favourite relative_ – he was utterly focused on making a good impression, helping resolve the maternity leave issue in a discreet and effective manner and ensuring that his favourite non-Varia person would be as safe as possible during her pregnancy and in the early months of raising their child, although preferably that safety would be achieved without significantly limiting Erica's freedom. It wasn't really her fault things had turned out like this so she shouldn't feel penalised for it.

His saying that had won him an approving smile from Ottava and a measuring glare from Lal Mirch, sending the conversation forward in the direction of various Mist security measures and the current defences around the Family Wing, although Lal Mirch called it 'the Housekeeping Wing' and so did everybody else. Mab and Kuchisake took over the conversation at this point, which was also when Maínomai noticed that Nebbia had placed a small illusion over the table so it appeared to be about ten centimetres wider than it was. If he hadn't noticed that in time he would have spilled his tea all over the carpet.

Maínomai dispelled the tiny illusion and retaliated by Altering the table so that any standing Mists would be unable to touch the teapot. He did this right as Nebbia was about to pour more tea for Ottava and smiled guilelessly as the wrinkled old man's hands passed right through the teapot rather than gripping the handle.

After that Maínomai barely paid any attention at all to the conversation, being utterly absorbed in his game of one-upmanship and having to really work hard at keeping up with his aged opponent. Nebbia had probably written half the book on Mist-tricks and re-written the other half after proving that he didn't have to abide by conventionally accepted limits. Of course the Varia didn't abide by those limits either, but most Varia lacked the kind of experience Nebbia had as they were barely a quarter of his age, if that: most of the Varia was somewhere between their mid-teens and their late twenties and Nebbia was ninety-four.

It was great fun, although he was pretty sure he'd missed a few of the more subtle tricks and would need to have Mab and Kuchisake look him over afterwards to make sure.

"–admittance?" Wait, that was important and he wanted to have a say in it.

"I'd like to set up proper, traditional invitation protocols," Maínomai said, looking around so as to catch the eyes of all the people discussing the matter, "with everybody needing to be invited in by name, and Erica having the option to revoke any individual or group's invitation at any time. Amadeo would have open access, of course, seeing as he lives here, but I'd prefer it if he were unable to invite people in. He's only three."

"That seems rather extreme," Lal pointed out, "as well as inconvenient. What if she needs medical aid?"

"Erica just has to make sure her preferred member of Vongola Medical has a standing invitation," Maínomai said, not relenting in the slightest, "and I really won't stand for anything less secure, not when it's Erica."

"Erica, not the baby?" Ottava asked archly.

"Erica's my friend," Maínomai said quietly, reaching out to grip said friend's hand again, "And I want to _know_ that she is as safe as can possibly be managed even when I'm not there, now that she's vulnerable. I don't know the baby yet, so it isn't really real to me as a person as terrible as it sounds, but Erica _is_ and she's very important to me. I don't want her getting hurt."

"Beauty _and_ spine, won't Maria-Chiara be pleased," the old lady mused. "Very well; I'll ensure it happens. Who'll be putting all this up and ensuring it stays up? Other than Nebbia, of course; multiple layers make these things more reliable."

Maínomai tuned out again as the conversation continued; he'd said his part and made his point, so the rest of the details were less important to him. He was paying attention though and not just to Nebbia's latest trick…

* * *

Once the whole security debate was over it was agreed that Erica would go back to her apartment –and to work– for another month, time in which the security on her suite in the Vongola Mansion would be upgraded and Erica's prospective replacements would 'shadow' her at work to see what she did, how she did it and make sure she was well-cared for. At the end of the month Erica would move into the Vongola Mansion for eighteen months while her replacements moved into her flat –probably taking it in turns– and took over her job.

Pýř intended to use the upcoming 'free' month to arrange that very necessary visit to Romania, so Maínomai could get his hands on his mother's medical records, his own medical records and possibly even his father's medical records, as despite his partner clearly hating his male parent it was still necessary information. Maínomai could also relax a bit away from Headquarters, make plans and visit his family, all of which would help him stabilise further.

The only thing Pýř had been slightly concerned about was how the Captain and Mammon would take their sudden decision to go on holiday, but the Captain had just told him to 'go away so Talbot's apprentice has time to calm down' and Mammon simply pointed out that if an urgent mission came up they'd have to make their own way to an arranged rendezvous point. It was therefore just five days after taking tea with the Ottava that Pýř and Maínomai got on a plane to Bucharest, weapons hidden in suitcases by the careful application of Mist Flames.

Maínomai had called ahead, so his aunt would be expecting them; she was even putting them up in her house as Maínomai's brother had recently moved out, so she had plenty of space. Pýř then realised that he didn't actually know his partner's real name but was likely about to find out, as his aunt certainly would not be using his Varia codename.

"Maínomai?"

"Hm?" His partner blinked sleepily at him; Pýř had no idea why aeroplanes made the Mist drop off; it made no sense, yet still happened. It didn't happen on tiny planes filled with Varia or the Varia private plane, just commercial flights; really weird.

"Your aunt is going to use your name, isn't she?"

"Yes," his partner agreed, yawning. "Oh… right I haven't told you that before, have I?"

Pýř shook his head. Names were a serious business in the Varia.

"It's Radu; my brother's Mirche. Our aunt's Serafina."

"My given name is Wilhelm," Pýř responded, although he personally felt 'Pýř' was more him than 'Wilhelm' was. The only reason he had any attachment at all to his birth name was that his grandparents still called him that; his grandparents were also the reason he had hung onto his father's surname.

"Oh, and my aunt's surname is Muṣat," Maínomai added, "if you want to be polite."

That was clearly his aunt's _married_ name; Pýř wondered whether his partner's mother had gone by her maiden name after separating from her husband. It did seem likely, although Maínomai's own medical records would bear his father's surname. He wasn't going to ask about that though, as it was definitely a sore subject and he would find out anyway once they got the paperwork. Or at least copies of the paperwork; Cloud Flames were very handy that way and Flame-conjured duplicates could still be photocopied.

* * *

Serafina Muṣat was slightly below average height with strawberry blonde hair, a ballerina's physique –if rather healthier-looking than the average ballerina– and the same blue-grey eyes and dazzling smile as Maínomai. Radu. Pýř had to think of him as Radu at the moment, because that was the name his partner's aunt was using as she fussed over him, interrogated on how well he was eating and chivvied him into helping with the chores, occasionally reaching up to tug on his hair when he sassed her.

It was now obvious to Pýř why Maínomai had never had the smallest problem taking orders from Mab: his partner was used to having petite redheads boss him around, even though Mab only claimed she was strawberry blonde and tended to get mean towards anybody who pointed out her hair was the orange it actually was.

As a guest Pýř was expected to just sit tight and let his host do all the work, which did at least give him plenty of time to examine his surroundings and plot their investigations. They'd be starting off with Maínomai's –Radu's– mother's death certificate, which would be easy enough to get hold of at the local church. If that proved unsatisfactory, they would have to ask Radu's aunt to permit access to Radu's mother's medical records, as she was the most likely person to have been appointed as executor of Radu's mother's Will.

Getting hold of Radu's father's medical records would probably be harder, but his death certificate would be likely at the church too and after they knew which hospital or clinic he had attended they could break in and make copies illegally. Pýř was also very curious about what, exactly, the man had done for a living because Maínomai didn't know. That was very unusual –despite his partner's parents having separated when he was five– and suggested it might have been government-related or possibly anti-government. The latter was more likely than the former, as the former would likely have paid better and what little Maínomai had let slip about his childhood suggested it had been rather deprived. Not significantly more or less than anybody else suffering through the Austerity in Romania, but bad enough.

Looking around the rooms Pýř could tell that despite the economic recovery since the early nineties, Radu's aunt was not very well off. She had a house and a job –she was a dance and former gymnastic instructor– but the carpets were worn, the wallpaper was faded and the furniture was battered. More interesting than the state of the house were the photographs, hanging on the walls in a variety of frames and sitting on the sideboard. Aside from those of Serafina, her husband, son and students, there were pictures of his partner as a young teen, all knees and elbows and toothy smile, pictures of a pre-teen Radu with another boy who was probably his brother –with a broader, stockier build and blond hair but those same pale eyes– and a picture of both boys looking about primary school age being hugged by a slim, vivacious woman with golden blonde hair, pale eyes and a familiar dazzling smile; that was probably his partner's mother.

That woman was present in quite a few other pictures, but the really interesting one was the wedding picture in the corner, half-hiding behind a potted plant. It showed a slightly younger-looking blonde beaming at the camera from the arms of a tall, solid and muscular-looking man with dark brown hair, pale eyes and an expression of smitten awe as he stared at his bride. If that picture was any indication, it hadn't been lack of feeling that caused their marriage breakdown. Something work-related then? Maínomai's mother hadn't liked what her husband did for a living, or thought it was a threat to her children?

"Lunch is ready!" Maínomai called out from the kitchen; there was then a thump, an "ow!" and the low, furious sound of a scolding. Pýř smiled and made his way out of the sitting room. Lunch was moussaka and Serafina had promised there would be dessert afterwards. She'd also whacked Maínomai on the shoulder when he tried to wheedle out of her what the dessert was, which had been funny.

* * *

Two days later, the two Varia were sitting at the kitchen table while Serafina was out at work, staring at the death certificates of Maínomai's parents.

"How do you die of anaemia? Even complications from anaemia? How can the specific cause of death be 'widespread coagulative necrosis'? That's just a fancy term for cell death! A person's body doesn't just _stop_ like that!" Maínomai raged.

Pýř had a feeling there was a cover-up involved in Ruxandra Hosszú née Tismaneanu's death; a fairly major one, considering it was signed by no less than two doctors and _three_ members of the Orthodox Church stating that it was factual, accurate and complete; there had been no post-mortem and her body had been cremated barely two days later. Mihai Hosszú's death certificate was considerably more straightforward: he'd died of exsanguination after being ripped in half, with the post-mortem revealing multiple benign tumours growing in various parts of his body and putting pressure on his organs. He too had been cremated, but a week following the coroner's report as was more normal.

Considerably more interesting was Mihai Hosszú's supposed occupation at the time of his death; how does a _coroner_ get himself _ripped in half_ in suburban Bucharest? Surely there were some old police records he could dig up, because that _had_ to be one _interesting_ crime scene… and if they had good photos maybe it was possible to tell if it had been a Sun or a Cloud that could have done it.

A week of investigation later and the picture wasn't really any clearer; Mihai Hosszú _had_ been the local coroner up until his death and had also been something of a workaholic. The local priest had come to the area after Mihai's death so was useless, but a raid of the coroner's office's records had turned up a whole raft of very interesting paperwork involving deaths that looked just like Ruxandra Tismaneanu's. It appeared to be an epidemic… or a serial killer. After the latter thought had surfaced Pýř had spent two whole days arranging the cases in date order and mapping them out and had come to the conclusion that between 1969 when Mihai had joined the coroner's office until his death in early 1989, there had been at _least_ six different serial killers with the same modus operandi operating in Mihai's section of Bucharest every year; one year had _fifteen_ of them! They'd all had different victim preferences, but had generally targeted older teens and young adults with the occasional child or homeless person thrown in for variety. Each killer had operated independently of the others and their territories hadn't overlapped, which suggested they had been aware of one-another.

It was frankly disturbing and would have been more so had each specific killer's victims not abruptly ceased somewhere between their fourth and tenth documented kill; that the last kill of each set was marked with a note bearing the Romanian word for 'closed' suggested that Maínomai's father might have been taking the law into his own hands and hunting down those responsible. That didn't quite fit the profile Pýř was building of the man though… he had been very religious and had firmly believed that murder was sinful no matter a person's motives. People who believed that were more likely to get themselves murdered than murder others, even for a 'good' cause. Maínomai had his father's height and colouring if not his build but clearly didn't take after him in terms of personality; he was more like his unexpectedly fair-haired relatives there.

Looking at the documents, the maps and reading between the lines, the picture Pýř was getting reminded him uncomfortably of the stories his grandmother had told him on winter's evenings and certain horror novels. As a Flame-user he knew that a whole lot of things that normal people scoffed at –like Curses, telepathy and really strange animals– actually existed and were not hard to find, provided you knew where to look. Still…

… vampires? Seriously?

He should probably hunt down that local retired priest who had signed Ruxandra's death certificate and ask. At least his Romanian was improving after all this reading and using it…

He still wasn't going to list the language in his Varia records.

* * *

Tracking down the priests involved a few break-ins to find out where they were currently living: Romania had a law where priests retired from their holy duties as a minister of God at a certain age. The law had been passed in the early days of Romania's Communist days as a way to control the church's power over the populace by regularly removing its members from positions of influence. Pýř wasn't certain if it had been revoked or reworded recently, but as one of the priests was already in his eternal rest, the idea had merit for any other religious organization.

Pýř really wished that Maínomai was with him because the Mist did keep up with politics for a lot of the world and generally could find out more information from the locals in less than an hour; two if he had conflicting accounts and lots of factions to work around. Even so, Pýř wasn't helpless to find his own sources of information or people to give him the information he wanted. Their friendship wouldn't have worked out if either of them had been so completely reliant on the other, much less their partnership. They could work apart, but they worked better together. Pýř had all the impulse control his partner lacked, much like his partner had all the niceness and sociability.

Thankfully, for a pious man the priest was all business and not the brimstone and hellfire kind either. That sort of watchfulness wasn't learned without tangling with a few bears and winning even when the odds were against you.

Learning that according to the retired priest vampires were real and needed eradicating whenever found was not what he expected to learn while in Romania. The priest at least genuinely believed that vampires were real, and not in the manner of zealots. No, the retired priest launched into a solemn lecture that he had probably told many times before. The quiet certainty at least proved that the priest believed this, had experienced loss while fighting this and...

Pýř couldn't discount the evidence despite all his scepticism. Fifteen people each with hunting grounds of their own, all in a single year with the same way of draining victims of their blood... even a wild conspiracy theory involving cults where people thought they were turned to vampires couldn't explain everything. Especially not for years upon years of victims even with the infamy Romania had for vampires. If it was more 'natural' then there would be different ways of draining blood than a bite size tear at the victim's throat; slit wrists for a slow drain, decapitation if you didn't mind the effort or mess and even going for that sweet spot in the inner thighs if you wanted more of a mess on the walls. Spray from the aorta was harder to achieve than movies would have people think; ribs were good about getting in the way although that wasn't really a challenge for someone of Varia Quality. Anyway you sliced it, going at someone's throat was not going to drain someone completely dry even if they did generally die once enough blood loss occurred; the heart required a certain amount of blood volume in the body to circulate properly so not all of the blood would even reach the neck, no matter the lungs powering the fang suction. That was very sloppy and occasionally led to survivors, like Maínomai's mother.

Meeting with the other priest produced much of the same, although this priest was happier to remenisce over the hunt in a manner that reminded the Cloud of how retired Varia in Housekeeping sometimes brought up old stories of past missions, successes, failures and amusing little stories of dead or retired Varia; some of _those_ stories dated back to when the Varia was newly founded. Pýř listened intently, interrupted a few times to ask for clarifications and eventually judged both priests to be truthful.

Of course, the former hunter didn't stop at just his memories of hunting vampires; there were other things out there that liked to hunt people. They were also far less selective than vampires but Pýř wasn't that interested in everything that hunted people. Some of them Pýř had heard of before, if by a different name, so the information wasn't new although its factual relevance was.

This left Pýř having to break the news to his partner that both of his parents were likely dead due to vampires. Also that there were likely still vampires in Romania as cliché as it sounded; were all those vampires trying to use the reputation of Dracula for their benefit or something?

Pýř, after listening to various tales and tricks of the hunting trade, took a moment to find somewhere quiet and call the Varia's master of all things arcane and occult: Mammon the Mist Acrobaleno. If anyone could confirm the existence of vampires it would be Mammon.

One the third ring, the Mist Acrobaleno picked up, and Pýř heard a string of Greek. It was actually a phrase that Pýř knew, well the first part at least, but knowledge of Mammon's character filled in the rest.

"This is Pýř, I'd like to consult your knowledge for confirmation of something."

"Mou, the usual consulting fees apply."

"Maínomai and I ran into something interesting while investigating health records. Maínomai's mother died of complications from anaemia, specifically widespread coagulative necrosis."

"It's code for vampires." The Mist replied instantly.

Pýř cursed. Scowling, he skipped asking if the Acrobaleno was sure as was his first impulse. Mammon was a professional information broker. "It also appears that Maínomai's father was a hunter."

"A hunter? They tend to die young and messily if they avoid being eaten."

"Ripped in half." Pýř confirmed.

"Messy. Anything else?"

"How to kill them with Flames? Any adverse reactions to specific types?"

"Killing them with Flames is almost easy, as they lack a human soul for all that they possess a human body. Disintegrating them would be a better idea than trying to break them with multiplied force as they don't have to observe normal human limits including pain. I find stakes to be a lot of risky close-in work when using Mist Flames to create sunlight is far more effective. Decapitation works well as well, even if a few limbs have to be chopped off prior to that so that they're easier to stake if you feel the need. Burning them straight out with Flames works too, but Flames are more likely to burn the building down too. Using Flames is also far too likely to burn whatever they have on them so you can't even loot them for whatever money they have in their wallets afterwards."

"They lack a human soul?" He echoed, as the rest was what Pýř thought was pretty much straight out of books and movies with a dash of common sense.

"I am the strongest Esper in the world." Mammon said, with minimal arrogance. "I _hate_ when they are in my sensing range, especially when I am asleep. So I take steps to make sure I can get back to sleep."

Pýř understood that to mean that Mammon had quite the kill count of vampires, because it was estimated that Mammon's range was about four kilometres. "Thanks Mammon. Take the amount I owe out of my Varia account."

"I will do so." The Acrobaleno said before he hung up.

Well, vampires were real, so other creepy-crawlies likely were as well. If nothing else the idea of 'behead and burn' worked on practically everything right?

* * *

Pýř thought it said a lot about his partner that he took the vampire news calmly. The Mist had accepted that bit of news relatively easily as he slid further down his aunt's chair. Vampires weren't exactly news to the Mist as Maínomai grew up here, so while attacks clearly weren't common they weren't infrequent either. His mother's death being a vampire issue was something easily dealt with. His partner wasn't stupid and had probably suspected it almost from the moment he read the cause of death but that didn't mean he wanted to _know_ that his mother had been turned into a snack for a vampire looking to be the next Dracula or possibly turned deliberately as a 'bride of Dracula' candidate.

Maínomai took the news of his father's _real_ occupation a lot harder. After all, his partner had initially thought that he'd be a failure of a parent because of his own father's pointed absence and the fact that Maínomai thought he had killed the man with a Mist-Curse. To learn otherwise, that the man had a possible reason for missing his wife's funeral and most other childhood events... that was distressing.

"Pýř, distract me before I do something Stupid like confront my aunt about my mother's death while she's teaching kids under eight."

Mentioning that at least Maínomai had a better relationship with his parents than Pýř did wouldn't get Pýř anywhere. So he didn't. "Mammon said other creatures exist. We can explore the Black Forest in Germany." He offered.

He could also swing by and see how his cousin was doing. Blackmailing his father into taking care of his maternal cousin had soured that relationship, not that he and his father were ever that close. His father had sent him over to his grandparents, who were in Poland, with little more than a letter and the clothes on his back.

"What's in there?" His partner asked.

"Werewolves supposedly." Pýř told him, and the Cloud still wasn't certain if he wanted to believe in that or not. Then again: vampires.

"Werewolves? Getting bitten would be bad and really why do those two conditions require someone getting bit before turning dead and according to Mammon soulless or else furry during the full moon? A bite would be an excellent way to pass on a disease or even a Mist-Curse but even if it worked like a virus it wouldn't change a person's species. Plus the soulless thing, how would that even be worded as a Mist-Curse?"

The conversation continued, dissecting what they knew of as fact and what was heresy until Serafina Muṣat returned from teaching. Pýř didn't have high hopes for this being an easy conversation.

* * *

After the whole messy revelation with Maínomai's aunt about his mother's death –yes we knew it had been vampires; we didn't tell you because you were too young– Pýř's partner had been sulking. Of course, this being Maínomai, he didn't just hole up in his bedroom and pout; instead the Mist had been out of the house doing parkour, going to dance clubs for loud music and mindless exercise or climbing public buildings so he could look at the view, although the latter was done invisibly to avoid notice and arrest. While his partner was so occupied Pýř had grilled Serafina for more details on 'monsters', made three more visits to the retired priests and had even managed to hunt down Maínomai's paternal uncle, who was a Hunter, still alive if scarred and subsequently knew a _lot_ about killing not-exactly-human creatures that considered people to be food to eat or toys to break.

The Cloud had not the slightest intention to go looking for the things, but knowing they were out there and how to kill them would enable him to protect his partner from them –vampires were apparently attracted to 'brightness' and Maínomai definitely had that– as well as inform the rest of the Varia so that appropriate precautions could be taken on missions to suspect areas.

Really, the only _good_ news that had come out of this visit was that his partner hadn't actually killed his father after all and that said parent had been less of a failure as a role model than he had appeared to be. However Pýř thought all the mess could easily have been avoided if Maínomai's adult relatives had treated him like a rational human being rather than a mushroom. Seriously, the truth was always better where the people you were closest to were concerned and misunderstandings happened anyway, so why make things worse?

By the end of the three weeks Pýř was rather looking forward to getting back to Headquarters and Maínomai had got over the abrupt shake-up of his worldview, so at least their departure wouldn't involve stony silences on his partner's side of things and teary looks from Serafina. In fact the Mist had bounced back pretty well and was currently regaling his aunt with an –appropriately censored– account of a mission they'd done together; according to the public record, Radu Hosszú worked as a translator for an international consultancy. Wilhelm Szczepaniak worked for the same company as a security specialist, so there was a paper trail of legitimate business and pay that could be followed up if a person were so inclined. Part of Radu Hosszú's pay was even sent to his family, which wasn't unusual either; Pýř sent part of his 'official' pay to his grandparents.

"That reminds me, Radu: I have your mother's jewellery to give you," Serafina said once the meal was over. "Put the dishes in the sink while I fetch it."

Maínomai obligingly cleared up, Pýř joining in as soon as Serafina was out of the room; being a guest got boring very quickly and it was easier to keep his partner on track if he helped with what the Mist was doing. Maínomai was actually very good at things like washing dishes, dusting and doing laundry as he could focus on what needed doing and make sure nothing got dropped, forgotten or misplaced, but they could take him longer than necessary if he got lost inside his head. As his partner had been having a lot of introspective moments lately, Pýř was sticking close.

As they just had to stack the plates in the sink it was over and done with very quickly, so they were sitting back at the table when Serafina came back downstairs with an old but well-made jewellery box.

"Here; Mirche has already picked out a few things he liked for his fiancée and Ruxandra wanted you to have most of it for your eventual wife and daughters," Serafina said brightly. "She even left you the family necklace; that was our mother's. We used to take it in turns to wear it when we went out dancing."

Maínomai had opened the box and removed a layer of little compartments holding earrings; it looked like a mixture of actually valuable if modest heirlooms and pretty but mostly worthless costume jewellery. "I think I remember that necklace; a choker made of elaborate little rectangles, with little dangling pendants inset with tiny aquamarines?"

"Yes, that one," Serafina said as Maínomai lifted a truly _stunning_ necklace out of the box.

"I didn't remember it being this pretty," the Mist said dreamily, lifting it up towards his neck.

Pýř knew that Maínomai didn't like jewellery. He never wore any, preferred that his dates not wear any and had mentioned more than once that he liked how Erica usually only wore earrings and didn't like necklaces at all. That made this behaviour _highly_ suspect, _especially_ where an obviously old and _highly_ valuable necklace made of high-quality gold was concerned. Any proper parent would have sold something like this to a museum and spent the money on their children; that neither Serafina nor the late Ruxandra had done so indicated something fishy was going on.

Gold and gemstones held Curses very well indeed.

The Cloud quickly moved around the table and thwacked his partner across the back of the head, making Maínomai stumble and drop the necklace back on the table.

"Pýř! What was that for?" The Mist whined, rubbing the back of his head.

"Why on earth would you want to wear your mother's necklace?" The Cloud demanded. Maínomai opened his mouth, paused, looked down at the necklace and paled, taking a big step back from the table and putting his hands behind his back.

"That was mother's favourite, wasn't it?" Maínomai said brightly, turning back to his aunt. "She always wore it to church."

"Yes, she did; I was so jealous that _Mamă_ left it to her and not to me, but she let me wear it at my wedding and for parties so I couldn't really complain," Serafina replied, looking curiously at her nephew.

"You said it was _Mamaie_ 's? What was she like?" Maínomai asked, taking another step away from the table towards his aunt, eyes wide and shining with interest. "Did I ever meet her?"

Serafina smiled. "You didn't: she died when your mother and I were teenagers; how our poor father managed I'll never know! Come on, I have photo albums in the sitting room; she was a wonderful woman, your _Mamaie_."

Once he was alone in the room Pýř pulled off his jumper, unbuttoned his silk shirt and used the finely woven garment to pick up the necklace and bundle it up in a knotted parcel. Silk was very good at isolating Curses as it repelled Flames, so it would do as a temporary containment for the suspect piece of jewellery. The Cloud then put the little tray back where it belonged, closed the jewel box and headed upstairs with both it and the bundled-up necklace; these would be going in _his_ suitcase until they got back to HQ, at which point they'd be going _direct_ to Housekeeping's Curse Department. Anything that affected _his_ partner like that needed _thorough_ investigation.

* * *

Translations

Securitate = Communist Romanian secret police

Thú gòrach amdan = you witless fool (Irish)

kawaii kohai = cute junior colleague (Japanese)

Signora = Madam (Italian)

Signor = Mister (Italian)

Signorina = Miss (Italian)

Nonno = grandpa (Italian)

Sesto = sixth (Italian)

Bisnonna = great-grandma (Italian)

Mamă = mum (Romanian)

Mamaie = granny (Romanian)


	4. Parenting is not a Varia Quality 4

This is technically the last chapter, but there will be a couple of epilogues added later. Probably.

There are two omakes at the end of the chapter; don't miss them!

* * *

 **Parenting is not a Varia Quality**

As the flight left Romania at painfully-early o'clock in the morning, they landed in Palermo before noon despite having to change planes at Rome. Upon getting out of the airport Maínomai had Pýř drop him off outside Erica's apartment block on the way to the Varia Mansion; it was nearly a month since he'd seen her and now he'd reassessed his family situation he wanted to reassure her that he was going to be around and taking an interest in their child no matter how difficult it proved to be. They were already making plans to cut down on the length of the campaigns they took on despite Mammon's grumbling about costs, so Maínomai was pretty sure he'd be able to be around more than his own father had been.

He also wasn't going to lie to his child about his job or the risks involved; it hadn't worked for his father so he wasn't going to emulate the man there. Truth hurt less. In all likelihood he would have retired from the Varia after a decade or dozen years of service –about the same time as Pýř would be retiring– but since he was going to be a father he had started putting serious thought into what he intended to do afterwards. Considering how many languages he knew he could always go into academia or teach, but he knew he wasn't cut out for that sort of thing. There was always translation work but to do that day in and day out would drive him to distraction in short order, then there was the mafia factor: it wasn't like he just cut all ties and live completely civilian for the rest of his life. He wasn't going to abandon his friend and their yet-to-be-born child like that, so he'd have to find something to do that was preferably within the Vongola. What that would be, he wasn't sure yet.

Maínomai had just reached Erica's floor when there was the sound of a door opening, a clatter of feet on stone and then his petite friend ran right into him, wrapping her arms around his middle and bursting into tears.

Er, help?

Maínomai had automatically wrapped his arms around Erica as she crashed into him, so as outside assistance didn't seem to be forthcoming he rocked back and forth gently as she sobbed into his shirt, cradling her head with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. What on earth was going on?

A familiar face then emerged from Erica's open front door: Joia, a Rain who had been a civilian when Kuchisake picked him up in Hokkaidō two years ago to replace the mook who'd pissed her off. He'd made Varia Quality in January and was now a fully fledged member of Rain Squad; Maínomai however was never going to forget that his apprentice name had been Mótek and that Kuchisake had named him. It was just so hilariously incongruous a name-choice from the horror fanatic, despite actually fitting Joia's personality perfectly. He really _was_ a sweetie.

Joia looked concerned and a little sad, but wasn't showing any of the warning signs that would suggest something had gone badly wrong while Maínomai was on holiday. No, this seemed to be a personal or emotional issue rather than a Family-wide incident. That was reassuring in a way, but Maínomai couldn't think of anything that could have upset Erica so badly that wasn't an utter disaster; she was usually stability incarnate!

Wait, pregnancy hormones were supposed to affect women's emotions, weren't they?

As he clearly wasn't going to get an answer standing in the hallway, Maínomai gently picked up Erica in a bridal carry, walked down the hall with her in his arms and past Joia into the apartment, the Rain closing the door behind them.

Erica was still sobbing into his shoulder, but more quietly now. She'd also adjusted her grip so her arms were wrapped loosely around his neck.

"What's wrong?" Maínomai asked Joia in Japanese; he was pretty sure Erica understood Japanese –she _was_ Vongola after all– so he wasn't being rude by using it in front of her.

"Lady Eighth has passed away," Joia said quietly, bowing his head.

"What? The old lady's died? When? I was sure she had years left!" Maínomai babbled quietly, quickly moving over to the sofa and sitting down on it, settling Erica in his lap so he could cuddle her properly. Right now he needed it as much as she did.

"It was this morning, around a quarter to six," Joia said, eyes sad as he leaned against the wall. "The entire Underworld's ground to a halt; things may pick up again this afternoon, but I think tomorrow's a more realistic forecast. Would you like a drink?"

Maínomai blinked. "Yes, a drink. Drinks all round; Erica should drink something too. Do you know what she likes to drink? Are there things she's not allowed to drink?" He was babbling. He should stop.

Joia didn't comment on his word-vomit though and just answered the questions. "Erica will have hibiscus tea, I should think; she's not allowed alcohol, coffee or black tea. Will you be having the same or something different?"

"The same is fine," Maínomai said, leaning his forehead against Erica's hair. She smelled nice, even with the scent of tears mingling with the floral perfume of her shampoo. He liked hugging Erica: she was very huggable and the deep, subtle Tranquillity of her Flames was very calming, making it actually possible to sit still and think of nothing in particular without getting lost inside his own head. He'd spent a few very enjoyable evenings while they were dating just cuddling her after she'd fallen asleep in his lap watching television.

Joia once again proved that he was the kindest and most tactful assassin in the Varia by simply preparing the tea, bringing it out into the living room and then vanishing back into the kitchen and closing the door. He was probably doing CEDEF paperwork or writing a report for Squalo –Joia had been the Rain Officer's preferred fetch-and-carry minion for _months_ now– but Maínomai still appreciated the appearance of privacy. There should have been at least one other person in the apartment as this mission had called for pairs or trios, but as Ottava had died and Erica clearly wasn't at work it was likely that the other two Varia had gone to the CEDEF office to make sure her work still got done.

If Joia was here, that meant that the Squad currently shadowing Erica was Kuchisake's Squad, also known as Keunmul Squad. The other two Varia were therefore Derecho and Senka, both Rains and some of the steadiest assassins in existence; they had to be to survive Kuchisake's sense of drama. That meant that Maínomai could sit back and relax in the knowledge that everything was being taken care of, so he didn't have to think about it.

Well, everything was taken care of except Erica, but he didn't mind taking care of her.

* * *

Maínomai wasn't at the funeral-proper but he _was_ there and saw it; he was just not in the church supporting Erica as she cried through the eulogies. Not that he didn't want to be –even if Federico still wanted to castrate him and he hadn't met Nono properly– but the place could only hold so many people and retired Varia had first claim inside as they likely knew Ottava better; not just Housekeeping, but _all_ the retirees still living. Speaking of Housekeeping, Tyrant was the one that made the 'request' that all active Varia not otherwise occupied to lend a hand to security for the funeral. In the end Headquarters had been left with a skeleton staff of Housekeeping and Varia with Lussuria to run it. It wasn't a request they could honestly refuse either; Tyrant had just 'passed' that 'request' on from Nebbia and well... here they were.

The amount of people there and around the place was insane. Beyond the various Mafiosi, Dons and Heirs with the occasional Donnas, there were the _three_ wailing fanclubs and retired Varia galore. The retired Varia were generally in civvie clothes but a few were mixing in with bodyguards of various Famiglia and wearing mafia suits; those Varia were originally from Famiglia allied with the Vongola and so when they retired from the Varia that's where they went back to, as assassins made the best bodyguards for anyone vulnerable like a wife or child.

Most of the retired ones were in civilian funeral finery though and it was entertaining to try and match which Varia name went with who but as rich and detailed as the stories passed down through the Varia were, Maínomai couldn't place very many beyond those he actually knew personally that had retired. He did know that Deadpool was hanging around with Marvel Squad complete with his old costume and weapons, as that news had come over the Mist-modified com links. The Altered com links were a work of art that Maínomai shared with about six other Mists so that all the Squads and additions could coordinate properly; the extras were just bonuses because being Varia meant that conventional limits meant nothing.

Those com links were not just a hidden radio headset, but had been extended to affect the sunglasses that most of Varia already wore or had Conjured for them if they didn't already have glasses of some sort. There were a series of projections that could be seen through the Altered glasses that could be cycled through at will. One had both visual and sound of the funeral itself, although the visual quality was lacking so that people could still see through the glasses and not have a massive blindspot, and radio chatter took precedence over any funeral stuff anyway. Any speeches that would take place hadn't happened as it wasn't time to start yet; people were still coming in!

Some projections for the glasses were slowly being built up as someone took a concept imported from a video game of a mini-map that identified people and temporarily tagged them; there was a paper-thin Territory 'line' that surrounded the area around the Church and all the way to the Crypt, supported by a team of Mists, and as people crossed the Territory they 'agreed' to the tag. It was subtle enough that most people hadn't noticed it but it was very helpful in determining things like allies, civilians, retired Varia, non-hostile 'rivals' better known as Freelancers and actual enemies at a glance; aura tags meant the glasses saw a faint imposed colour over the person and those would dissolve within the day. The Vongola and allies were orange, civilians were blue, hostile enemies were red, non-hostiles were pink. Active Varia were black, but retired ones were grey. It was handy and they would probably get a variant set up for security of Headquarters once all the particulars had been quibbled out. As it was the pink ones were being watched but the red were being quietly removed; radio-confirmation happened when a red was taken alive but death made the red marker disappear from the map displayed and what the glasses could 'see'.

He and Pýř had joined with Fuseau and Wanhope for the funeral. Wanhope was the one projecting the funeral footage but they weren't that close to the building; Wanhope's aura wasn't subtle and thus a major stealth-risk. Maínomai could see that the funeral footage was only slightly distorted but Wanhope was working between at least half a dozen views and patching them together for a solid image; the view didn't even jerk all that much even when switching from person to person after a slight bit of experimentation. The reason Wanhope was responsible for doing so was because the Puppeteer was very subtle about his control and well, others weren't and that would be bad politically speaking.

As Wanhope was pretty much stationary and mentally busy enough to be caught off guard, Fuseau was Wanhope's main guard. That wasn't a problem so much as what Wanhope's aura of misery did to some people passing by even with some mitigation at work; most of Ottava's fanclub members that streamed by were sobbing and wailing. More stoicism happened for those in the mafia but well, some women clearly hadn't invested in water-proof make-up and those suits suffered for it. The entire area was a mess and the funeral hadn't even started properly yet. People were still arriving. Maínomai had heard numerous sentiments of thanks over the radio that the Varia were not _being_ the crowd control people on the ground. The security on the ground were the ones keeping a lot of people away and out, which just meant those people clogged the streets instead.

Fuseau had a short patrol that switched up with him and Pýř's longer ones every so often; today's patrols were worked out to be a Celtic knot pattern but Maínomai wasn't sure which knot it was as the Varia called it by a different name; he did know how to run it though. The patrols did overlap in areas with those of the Squads closest to them; on one side was Glace's Squad but the other direction and closer to the church was the Pack who all had names that translated to 'wolf' and a Cloud named Yai that had joined them for the day. Loup was nowhere to be seen but as a sniper, Maínomai could guess where that particular 'wolf' was at; there was a nice little nest that had a clear shot towards the Church. Susi and Varg were likely prowling and there was no telling where Okami was because he was seriously sneaky.

As the time for the funeral to begin drew near, the surrounding area became even more crowded and then numerous Squads became busy with removing hostiles without alerting the civilians or mafia allies. Mostly it was Rains, Suns and Mists taking various idiots down without attracting attention as it was easier for them; radio chatter confirmed that some Clouds had managed it too. Sumu was one of them but well, poisons allowed for that when used right.

"Ah, there's Nono and the rest of his Guardians coming in now. It appears that part of the Vongola contingent is running late compared to the fans." Gwasgedd's cool voice said over the radio in Italian. "Any idea about Federico's ETA?" The Rain added in English.

"Negitive. Nebbia's been spotted with Tyrant but they're already inside." Dis Pater of Dark Horse commented in Russian. "Maria-Chiara, Ganauche III and Visconti have been greeting a number of the early arrivals on behalf of the Vongola. Lots of extended family mostly so far, even if some are Dons in their own right. Various guards too."

"There's a need for Sweepers behind the Church; someone got messy with a hostile. Freelancer and Brugg's got identification for later. No one except the freelancer is dead, but this mess needs cleaned before someone gets curious about this street. Verwerfe's thrown up a screen but we don't have a Storm here." That was interesting and Maínomai couldn't identify who that was by voice but he suspected it was a Sun; he didn't socialise much with them.

"Ushishishi. The Prince is sending Sweepers to help clean up. If you keep the peasants out, he can show off some of Bulldog's research." Bel's voice cracked a bit but no one pointed that out over the radio; twelve or not, Prince the Ripper was still the Storm Officer.

Maínomai's patrol route met up with Pýř's shortly after that. A short conversation in Varia Sign occurred and revealed that nothing had happened; at least for their little sector. According to the sunglasses and various Projections quite a bit was happening elsewhere so they needed to be wary.

"I see Captain Squalo on the Church steps. He's here with his Famiglia? He's not in uniform anyway." That voice was a bit confused and young so Maínomai guessed he was an apprentice. It might be 'Honey,' but well, Maínomai didn't know for certain. He really needed to spend more time with the Varia's Suns.

"The Superbi Famiglia aren't the most well known Famiglia, but nearly every generation of the Vongola has had one of the Superbi as a Guardian after the Vongola first allied with them during Primo's time. The Superbi don't hold to a specific Flame or look, so unlike the Visconti you don't hear the name and think 'Cloud.' A number of Ottava's Guardians were Superbi including her last Sun and it's tradition for the family of the Guardians to attend if the Guardians themselves cannot. Squalo's likely over there as a bodyguard for various relatives, not that the Superbi truly need that after a certain age. I'll take the fee for such basic information out of your account, Sweetcake." Mammon's voice explained.

"Wearing the Varia uniform to a funeral is tacky anyway. Peasants tend to think that you killed that person if you do." Bel laughed some more over that.

Time ticked by and more Dons arrived with their security and Maínomai pondered the possibility of how much more hectic this little part of Sicily could get. Various allied Bosses appeared spanning the alphabet from Alliata to Zanasi and from around the globe and of all ages; even the young Cavallone Boss, complete with the Acrobaleno Reborn was here. Hell, even Iemitsu Sawada was here and Lal Mirch pretty much vaulted over to Reborn once the Sun Acrobaleno was in sight. Maínomai supposed that whoever was at the CEDEF was doing Erica's job or possibly security renovations while practically everyone was out.

"Anyone seen Federico yet? Or does he need burying too?" The Storm on Grimm Squad –Jeeër– asked.

"Mou, he's nearly late." Mammon commented.

Maínomai winced as he heard _that_ unspoken critique of Nono's son. Ouch, if Federico was late because of someone spreading her legs, that would look terrible for the Vongola. Really, terribly disrespectful as this was his grandmother's funeral and he was Heir Vongola.

"I'm certain that's him coming up the road to ya, Okami. My angle's too poor fer confirmation though." Fuseau said a few minutes later. "It's likely there were other issues than a pretty face. Nono was a bit late ta arrive too."

"I see him," Susi said. As that member of the Pack was a Mist, he could do Farsight as well. "He has all his Guardians too. He looks too sombre and well-groomed to have had a good tumble with a pretty face today."

A few more minutes more of radio silence and then, "Signor Vongola, please hurry to the funeral or else you'll be late." That was Okami, who sounded a bit irritated; enough to leave the mike on so all the surprised curses from Federico and his tragically named Guardians could be heard when Okami's seemingly sudden appearance startled them all. "Yai, breaking someone's spine for disrespect is considered excessive."

The response was a bit distorted but understandable, "Such disrespect to a great lady on the day she is buried is clearly unbearable for her descendants but being late to the rites is even more so. She would be very disappointed."

Then Okami requested someone to pick up the 'man with poor manners' and cut the mike. Some minutes later Federico was in the Church about ten minutes before the funeral started. Maínomai judged him through the projection on the sunglasses to be a bit _too_ late to get all the pleasantries and niceties necessitated by politics out of the way without some slight but he hadn't missed the start of the funeral.

* * *

As far as funerals went, Maínomai was certain that this was probably one of the craziest ones he had ever attended; not that he had attended all that many beyond his mother's and his cousin's. The Varia wasn't big on funerals since as assassins they had already made their peace with the possibility of dying themselves; it was part of the reason a lot of people were so dramatic beyond the stress of the job. The Varia had the occasional memorial but those weren't a day-long spectacle. The occasional wake on the other hand...

The eulogies were interesting. Nebbia's included a few stories of Ottava's younger years, including her early years as Donna Vongola balancing the Famiglia and motherhood while being a widow. That was a hell of a lot of work, especially for the time. No wonder she had been bored after retiring. Then Nebbia brought up Tyrant to speak, not that he called Tyrant by that name, or indeed any name.

Tyrant's speech was shorter than Nebbia's. More interesting was how many people within the church recognised him and stiffened into statues as he was called to speak. It was then that Maínomai remembered that most people outside of the Varia had no idea who Tyrant was or his well-earned reputation within the Varia. Those that joined the Varia –especially those from other Famiglias– signed Contracts about what they were allowed to reveal about the Varia to their Famiglia and what they weren't and Housekeeping counted as 'Varia operations covert and domestic, contacts, information about personnel within the Varia's organization and purview.' Very legally sneaky, considering that breaking said Contract had very lethal consequences so only the very Stupid or the suicidal would do so. Those Contracts were written on Enchanted paper and Cursed to stick, so pretty much the only people to know that the Varia even _had_ a Housekeeping were the Varia themselves –retired Varia included– and the upper echelons of the Vongola. You know, the people the Varia were allowed to mention the existence of Housekeeping _to_.

The Varia's Head of Housekeeping did not introduce himself. Instead he said, "The Vongola has suffered a great loss with the death of Daniela Vongola. Her death is not the end of her legacy for it lives on in her son, the Vongola, the reverberations of her achievements and the institutions she created and founded." There was a brief mention of the various economic reforms and policies which was enough time for those that knew of Tyrant to spot the trick; people were now convinced this was going to be a long and boring speech. Tyrant however was the soul of efficiency and always got what he wanted, how he wanted it. "I speak on the behalf of an organization she founded out of need during the War. The original members did not survive the war, but their legacy and her will did. We have since worked on behalf of the Vongola, both at the Vongola's direction and independently, to give us a purpose and a place within the Famiglia. On behalf of the Varia, Tyrant, a former Boss of the Varia gives his gratitude and the Varia's to Daniela Vongola. Thank you, Ottava Vongola. Give thanks to Ottava, Varia." Tyrant commanded.

The Varia –retired and active– within the church obeyed in a roar of noise. Captain Squalo's voice was pretty distinct and loud. As much as the eulogies and speeches were interesting, he and many others just murmured it; they were working after all.

As Tyrant practically stole the 'show' the last speech was given cursory attention but Maínomai doubted anyone paid that much attention to her or her speech. The Mist knew he remembered very little of it, other than a mention of 'a great love for her family and her Famiglia' which was about the only thing that stuck. He spotted someone marked 'non-hostile' shift into 'hostile' and sent the opportunist into dream land, while giving the excuse that 'his friend was too absorbed in his grief to eat and had fainted from hunger' to the civilian who asked as he carted the man out of sight. Maínomai then called in someone to transport this guy away to whatever Territory had been set up as a holding pen so he could go back to his job, while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on Erica through the Projection on his sunglasses.

The rest of the funeral pretty much went without major incident, as did the procession to and Ottava's interment in the Vongola Crypt. There was quite a bit of gossip about Tyrant both outside and within the Varia; the rest of the Mafia was certain he was Tyr's immediate predecessor, but the Varia knew better. The Varia's gossip centred mostly on how did he look around forty when he was closer to Vongola Nono's age or _how_ someone –likely Nebbia– had gotten Tyrant to speak at Ottava's funeral.

* * *

Erica had started her maternity leave early due to her great-grandmother's death rather than at the end of the following week like she had planned, so Pýř and Maínomai had already helped her settle in at the Mansion and approved her security –both the actual Wards and the Mist responsible for it who turned out to be a cousin of hers– by the time the funeral happened. Getting an urgent summons to Vongola Medical three days after said funeral was therefore utterly terrifying for the Mist and he probably would have had a complete meltdown had the medic making the call not specified that Erica 'would be just fine, provided you cooperate'.

Pýř found such wording deeply suspect and had driven his partner to the Iron Fort, then accompanied him into Vongola Medical to make sure nothing untoward was going on. Maínomai was being fully cooperative, of course, but if the reason for their summons being worded as it had was anything other than a case of really appalling bedside manner then Pýř fully intended to be _difficult_.

On arriving at Medical they were immediately hustled into a large, elegant room that looked nothing like a surgery and a lot like a psychologist's office, complete with a chaise longue. Erica was lying on the couch and a stern, greying medical professional in a grey pinstripe suit was sitting on a high-backed leather armchair next to her, taking notes. Pýř knew he was a medical professional because he was wearing a white coat over his suit with the mark denoting a Vongola Doctor; he knew the man was a Mist just by looking at him. That might explain the phone call; Mists seemed to get a kick out of misleading people.

Maínomai then pushed past his partner and hurried over to Erica. "Is she okay? What's wrong? Do I need to do anything?"

The Mist had got to his feet the moment Maínomai entered the room and suddenly Erica wasn't there anymore; maybe she'd not been in the room at all. Dealing with Territories was ever so annoying like that: illusions within the Territory were commonly indistinguishable from reality, even for an experienced Mist, unless the features within the Mist-created space were entirely surreal. Playing on his partner's concern like that however was just cruel.

"Miss Lanza is fine; I was able to prevent the Curse from digging its way into her system before it did her any permanent damage," the doctor said briskly, turning over a page and scribbling something down. "Are you aware that you are under a particularly vicious Family Curse? It was a bit touch-and-go removing it from your daughter but provided you stay well away from her until we break it properly she shouldn't come to any permanent harm."

Maínomai's knees gave way; the couch materialised behind him in time to catch him.

"I'll take that as a no…" the Mist mused, scribbling another note. "It's truly fascinating really; I've never treated such a malicious Curse before, nor such an old one. If it hadn't been so old and so poorly rooted I probably wouldn't have been able to remove it before the child was born, which would likely have left permanent damage of the kind you are very obviously suffering from. Hmm…"

Pýř remembered the necklace he had prevented his partner from putting on; the one he'd decided to hand over to the Varia's Curse Division. He'd completely forgotten about it: it was probably still sitting in his suitcase at the bottom of his wardrobe, wrapped in his shirt. There was no _way_ that slipping his mind could be anything but malicious. Pýř had planned for that necklace to go to the Curse Division as soon as he had unpacked… and he hadn't ever unpacked. He bit back a snarl in order to inform the doctor of the thing's existence.

"There's a family necklace Maínomai inherited," the Cloud said when it became clear that his partner was too busy freaking out to speak. Thankfully they were in a Territory so nobody would notice the loss of control other than the _Mistkerl_ doctor whose Territory it was. "He nearly put it on when he picked it up."

"That sounds a likely candidate," the doctor agreed, glancing briefly at Pýř and giving the Cloud a glimpse of piercing yellow eyes. "Fetch it."

Pýř didn't move. He didn't even twitch.

The doctor huffed and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, _Clouds_. So fussy. Your partner needs a thorough spiritual examination, as the Curse is heavily rooted in his system and considerably more developed than Miss Lanza's or her baby's. It will take me some time to properly map it out and determine the best way to mitigate the inevitable damage when I eventually remove it, time in which you could go and get that necklace so I can examine _that_ and see if it is possible to destroy it and if so, would it be best to do so before or after I de-curse your comrade? Oh, don't look at me like that; I'm the Vongola's best Curse Specialist and have been for the past forty years."

In other words, the Mist had far too much pride in his skills and position to compromise himself over a patient, regardless of said patient's identity. He was probably far more interested in the Curse than in Maínomai, which Pýř could accept as a guarantee. The Cloud turned and walked out of the door, which vanished as soon as he was back in the hallway.

Growling swearwords under his breath, Pýř set off resolutely back to the Varia Mansion. Erica was clearly fine, so he needed to get that necklace to the damn doctor so Maínomai could be treated.

* * *

Maínomai wasn't entirely sure how much time he'd missed; he'd lost track of reality when the doctor mentioned having de-cursed his _daughter_ –he was going to have a daughter– would she look like his mother or, wait she'd been Cursed? He'd said a family curse oh _Doamne_ the necklace–

The next thing he actually noticed as being specifically _outside_ his own mind was the faint scratching of a fountain pen and the same dry, impersonal medical tones of the doctor who'd just informed him he was going to have a daughter and, by-the-way, she'd already inherited a nasty family curse from him.

"…how a Mist of your calibre can have _missed_ this, or how your colleagues can have missed it either; it's not exactly _subtle_. Really, the Varia's medical department must be slipping."

"We don't have Curse specialists in Medical," Maínomai rasped, blinking at the ceiling. Why was he looking at the ceiling? Because he was lying on the couch.

"Ah, welcome back," the doctor said dryly, handing him a bottle of water. "No Curse specialists? You must all be rotten with them then; not every Death Curse is as obvious as a haunting."

"We do have Curse specialists, just not in Medical," Maínomai clarified, testing the bottle and its contents before opening it and taking a sip. "Most of the Curses we pick up are attached to artefacts."

"I'll have to write a recommendation to your Head of Housekeeping that he see to retraining one of them in medical matters then," the doctor said briskly, as though he wasn't talking about sending what amounted to a reprimand to _Tyrant_ ; maybe the Curse specialist didn't know of Tyrant or his position within the Varia? "None of my apprentices thus far have had the necessary ingenuity to replace me, but perhaps I have been looking in the wrong places."

Maínomai knew all five of the Varia's Curse specialists: they were Mists retired from active duty –three due to age, two from injury– and took great delight in being creepy and disturbing whenever they weren't gleefully ripping a Curse apart. Giving _any_ of them the power that being part of Medical bestowed… it wasn't a good thought.

"But seriously, this is _not_ a subtle Curse!" the doctor continued, as though he hadn't already given Maínomai a few months' worth of nightmare fuel with the news of a malicious Family Curse that he had passed down to his daughter. "How do you not _notice_ that you have been afflicted with Tragedy?"

Maínomai sat up. This he did know how to answer, although he would much rather have not done so:

"Because when tragedy is reality for millions, it's hard to single out a single instance of 'most tragic', even for a single person or family. Romania prior to 1989 was ruled by Nicolae Ceauṣescu and under Austerity in order to pay off debt. Food shortages were common, hot water was rationed, as was electricity and everything else. So reality happened when unexpected power cuts happened at the hospital killing those in intensive care units. Reality happened when people starved. It happened when people froze because they had no heat. It happened. That was reality, not tragedy; tragedy requires a fall from prosperity due to personal choices made by you and those close to you. Tragedy is defined as the fall from favour and what happens after that; my sense of Tragedy is therefore _distorted_ which affects my sense of _reality_."

The doctor snorted but didn't comment, which Maínomai was grateful for. It wasn't like the Varia was a particularly unbiased environment where tragedy was concerned either; well over half its members had tragedy in their personal histories.

Speaking of which, where had Pýř gone?

* * *

Pýř stormed back into Vongola Medical an hour later with the necklace bundled up in the same shirt he'd wrapped it in over a week previously, additional blessings tied around the outside so it didn't influence him into forgetting it again. Ghul had scribbled out the bindings for him; the gothic Mist wasn't by any means a specialist in Curses but he was a surprisingly devout Christian and that faith was in some ways more effective than experience or skill. Ghul was also very friendly with Maínomai, so he'd been willing to help without putting a price on his assistance beyond an explanation. Pýř had promised the explanation would come later, which Ghul had –thankfully– accepted.

He got back to the corridor where the door to the room Maínomai was in should have been and _glared_ at the blank wall until a door appeared, which the Cloud promptly wrenched open and marched through.

"Ah, finally!" The yellow eyed Mist snatched the bundle out of his hands and walked over to a desk which matched the upright armchair by the couch Maínomai was sat on. Pýř glanced around, noticed that the door had gone again and stalked across the Territory to sit next to his partner and wait for the doctor to notice them again.

It took a while.

"Well, you are very fortunate," The doctor said eventually, making his way back to the armchair and settling himself in it as he shuffled his notes. "The Curse is severely weakened, both from age and lack of power, and is designed to target the women of your bloodline rather than the men. As a result the Curse on you is considerably less severe than it might be; you are permanently damaged of course, but it could be much worse. You've never actually _worn_ the necklace yourself either, which helps."

"What kind of Curse _is_ it?" Maínomai asked, looking very pale indeed.

"It's a Vengeance Curse, specifically vengeance for infidelity: the wife of the maker of the necklace had a daughter by another man, so he made the necklace to Curse the daughter and her descendants for all eternity."

Pýř growled. Taking it out on the child like that was despicable behaviour; it wasn't her fault she'd been born!

"It really says, 'all eternity'?" Maínomai questioned. "What kind of person is all melodramatic like that?"

"The maker actually wrote their name into the Curse, which interestingly is not actually a Mist-made Curse at all; I'm not sure _what_ it works off beyond an unusual kind of ambient energy," the doctor went on with visible enthusiasm, "which is quite fascinating and may make it easier to untangle it from your Flames, since it clearly _isn't_ feeding off them."

"What name?" Pýř demanded.

The doctor's lips quirked up into something that was probably supposed to be a smile. "It's in Ancient Greek and translated it says, 'I Hêphaistos made this necklace that those born of the infidelity of my wife Aphroditê will suffer tragedy unceasing until the ending of the world'."

"What."

The Mist's eyes _gleamed_. "Are you not classically educated then, to have never heard the tale of Harmonia, daughter of Aphrodite and Aries, to whom Hephaestus gifted a cursed necklace upon her marriage to Kadmos and doomed her and her descendants to endless tragedy? It is mentioned in Nonnud's _Dionysiaca_ which dates to the fifth century BC."

"So it's over two thousand five hundred years old," Maínomai mused faintly, a sure sign that his brain was working, "but _seriously_ Hephaestus? They actually _existed_ as _people_ , not figments of people's imagination?"

"So it would seem," the other Mist said cheerfully. "He certainly knew what he was doing and had more power at his disposal than anybody I've ever seen; you can't make something this sturdy without serious malice aforethought."

"How do we destroy it?" Pýř demanded. He didn't particularly care that his partner might possibly be very distantly descended from a pair of Greek deities. That Curse however needed to go.

"Well I can't unravel it; it's far too old and well-made," the doctor admitted frankly, "so you'll probably have to destroy the necklace. As it is supposedly made by Hephaestus you would be most likely to succeed in breaking the Curse if you dropped it in one of Etna's active vents; Etna is traditionally considered to be the site of one of Hephaestus' workshops after all."

"Drop the evil jewellery in the volcano it was made?" Maínomai repeated, bemused; "how very Tolkien; Pýř do you think we could drive to Mount Doom today?"

"Yes." Pýř didn't want the damn thing lying around any longer than was strictly necessary.

"I will accompany you," the doctor said firmly, placing his notes in a leather briefcase and putting on his coat as the Territory faded into the actual physical room. "I want to see if there are any immediately visible changes once the focus of the curse has been destroyed."

Maínomai did not look remotely enthusiastic about _that_ and Pýř privately would have preferred to drop the doctor in a volcano alongside the necklace, but it was his partner's health that was at stake here so he could cope. The doctor could get his own damn transport though.

* * *

Maínomai was not in a good mood on the way up to his personal Mount Doom. A lot of it was directed towards the Curse specialist that was following behind with the rewrapped necklace, or so Pýř presumed. His partner didn't do angry mutters or rants at the world but Pýř was treated to a pointed discourse of the fidelity of the Roman gods until Maínomai ran out of material; the Cloud knew there were changes and background information in the Greek versions that weren't put in the Roman ones but Pýř could tell that Maínomai wasn't happy about his lack of knowledge there. Pýř had never bothered to truly study all of the convoluted mythology involved and had previously had no reason to; he knew who was who of the major deities and what they were gods of so it had been enough for him.

Pýř listened and offered his opinion on occasion, including on Maínomai's small worry that going by the name 'Harmonia' or 'Concordia' meant that his partner had Sky in his bloodline, so his daughter might be in the line of inheritance for the Vongola due to recessives or some sort of genetic influence because of the Curse they were going to be breaking. Pýř pointed out that the chance for that was minimal due to the amount of generations and time involved distancing them, if his ancestor was even a Sky in the first place. There was also the fact his aunt was a latent Sun and that his paternal family were Mists so his daughter's Flame was unlikely to be a Sky. Maínomai knew it was a ridiculous worry, but 'that didn't stop him from thinking about it on the way to Mount Doom!'

To distract his partner, Pýř admitted that he actually hadn't read all of Tolkien's work; his translated copy of 'The Hobbit' went missing during the one bout of 'playful' poisoning he had suffered as an apprentice and while he had made those who had poisoned him suffer greatly and live to regret it he had never recovered the book. He'd never read 'Lord of the Rings' either, although he could infer things just fine and had picked up a few cultural references.

Maínomai was horrified about the Cloud never finishing said book but didn't spoil the story for him. Instead he went on to talk about the languages in Middle Earth and how little linguistic drift likely occurred due to how long-lived the various species that weren't humans were. Otherwise the elves would have to relearn Common every couple of centuries because of how language evolved. The Mist theorised that the Orcs likely had a number of dialects and rapid linguistic evolution due to the convergence of languages and a lack of correction from elders, as they were likely snaga and soon to die anyway.

It was amusing to think of the Black Speech as full of idioms and references and akin to Varia-speech and that's why it was painful for the elves because they didn't understand it.

Maínomai's mood didn't improve but he got bored of discussing linguistics and started singing elvish songs that Pýř suspected had been altered to suit his partner's mood and general irritation. The Mist lapsed into silence as Mount Etna came into view; so there was Mount Doom. Now they just had to climb it and find a place to toss the necklace in.

* * *

They could actually drive about halfway up the mountain before having to park the cars and walk; the doctor's driver wisely did not comment on two Varia assassins and a member of Vongola Medical going for a walk up an active volcano but instead lit a cigarette and leaned against the outside of his vehicle, ignoring them. Looking up the barren lava flow towards the crater above them billowing with steam, Pýř realised that they'd need some Alteration in order to get close enough to actually drop the necklace in.

"So, what now?" Maínomai asked grumpily, kicking a loose rock. "Do we hike up there, drop the cursed jewellery in Mount Doom and hope for the best? Or is there a special procedure for disposing of evil wedding presents from vengeful scorned husbands of distant ancestresses?"

"Considering we are basically appealing to Hephaestus to lift the Curse, an appropriate procedure would be wise," the doctor said dryly, leafing through his notes. "Where was it… ah, here we are. A sacrificial animal would be a good idea, preferably a donkey or a young bull, and your Cloud partner will have to do the sacrificing and the eventual jewellery disposal."

"Why." Pýř knew he was being rude and honestly did not care. He did have his wallet on him but livestock was _expensive_ and buying an animal just to kill it and chuck it in a volcano was ridiculously wasteful.

"You are partners, are you not?" The Mist-doctor said acidly. "Hephaestus would never listen to an appeal from one born of his wife's infidelity; you must appeal on his behalf so that those born of his line will be free of the curse."

"Hey wait what! We're not _that_ kind of partners!" Maínomai squeaked, hands waving wildly. "It's my kid getting Cursed so shouldn't I do it?"

"As I said, you are essentially the 'guilty party'," the doctor pointed out, twirling a pen. "Your opinions are moot. We could call on Miss Lanza, of course, but she is a woman so Hephaestus probably wouldn't listen to her anyway and might even Curse her baby more heavily out of spite. However if your partner does it, it symbolises that the child will be born into another family line rather than simply as an inheritor of Harmonia's sins."

Maínomai buried his face in his hands and made incoherent noises while rocking gently back and forth; this was definitely a Bad Day for his partner, Pýř surmised. And wasn't it Harmonia's mother who had sinned in the first place?

"Fine; where's the nearest farm?" The Cloud asked. If this didn't work he would probably chuck the irritating Mist in the volcano too, but if it _did_ he would have to find a way to repay the man for his assistance.

"A way west of here; about two miles," the doctor said airily, pointing. Pýř looked, spotted a farmhouse roof poking up between the trees on the other side of the lava field and set out, dragging his partner along by the arm. Maínomai buried his face in the crook of his free arm, still mumbling in at least twelve different languages about doom and gender inequality and… donkeys? His partner was strange.

The farmer clearly wasn't sure _what_ to think of two foreign men walking into his farm and wanting to buy livestock, but he gamely sold them a yearling bull and muttered about crazy people as he watched Pýř lead the animal back up the mountainside. Once they were out of sight of the farm the Cloud had his partner Alter the bullock's size so he could carry it across his shoulders, then set off up towards the crater at a brisker pace.

Maínomai by this point was no longer refusing to look at anything and was instead muttering viciously about pederasty in Ancient Greece and its mythology, over-sexualisation and objectification of children and the lack of rights afforded to women while stomping along and staring at the ground. Zeus featured frequently, as did some of his more unusual sexual exploits that Pýř would have happily remained ignorant of. Then there were the mentions of Poseidon's mixed bag of lovers and sexual shape-shifting adventures, which had at one point resulted in a talking horse.

The doctor was waiting for them further up and managed to keep a surprisingly good pace despite the sharp edges of the lava flows, the steepness and the ever-increasing smell and heat. Pýř was grudgingly impressed, although most of his focus was on Multiplying his own physical strength so he could continue carrying a tonne of cattle up the mountainside without stumbling.

"What do I say?" The Cloud asked as they approached the crater.

"Something you mean; do try to be _respectful_ though," the doctor said with a fleeting smirk. "Don't worry about the language as I doubt it matters."

Pýř would use Polish then; Polish had become the language of family and bonds for him after he went to live with his grandparents. It would be easier to express his familial attachment to Maínomai in Polish than in German or Sicilian. Pýř recognised that as a Cloud his 'territory' consisted of the people he considered family, namely his grandparents, his cousin, his partner and most recently his partner's unborn child along with said child's mother and half-sibling. In Ancient Greek terms he was the 'head' of his family, so his demanding the curse be lifted made sense; practically it irritated him for those in his care to be considered 'lesser'. Maínomai was a Varia Quality assassin in his own right and Erica had been running the CEDEF from behind the scenes for years unaided!

By the time they were by the edge of the crater Maínomai had needed to Enchant them both not to feel the heat and enchant the bullock so it didn't panic; Multiplied strength or not, dealing with a struggling animal would have been difficult for Pýř. The Cloud set the beast on its own feet, piled a few rocks together as a makeshift altar, dumped the bundled-up necklace on it then dragged the bullock over to it and slit its throat, spilling the blood over the stones and necklace to drip onto the barren ground.

"I ask that the Curse of Tragedy be lifted from my partner and his children," Pýř said quietly but firmly in Polish, "because they are _mine_ and I want them to be safe and well." The bullock in his grip gradually stopped struggling and went limp, so Pýř lowered it to the ground before carefully picking up the sodden bundle and picking his way up to the very lip of the crater.

There was an extra-large plume of steam and boiling gas as he reached the edge, forcing the Cloud to screw up his eyes and hunch his shoulders so he could breathe through the collar of his jacket. A gleam of red down in the depths proved there really _was_ lava down there, so Pýř carefully calculated an appropriate trajectory and tossed the necklace into the crater, still knotted up in the now-ruined shirt. Then he backed up hastily, because breaking Curses was frequently explosive.

There was a pause, then the entire mountain shook for an instant and a roar of gas and sound rose from the crater, nearly blasting Pýř off his feet as he retreated hastily down the mountainside. The earthquake ended almost as soon as it started but the outpouring of smoke and tiny rocks continued, so the Cloud was all too happy to drag his partner back the way they'd came even as the doctor struggled to keep up and scribbled madly in his notes.

"So?" Pýř finally asked once they were about halfway back to the cars.

"It worked; the Curse is now broken so I will be able to untangle it from your partner and dispose of the residue," the doctor said with a toothy grin. "Of course as I mentioned before, there's not much I can do about the scars, but his condition will be stable and he'll be able to visit Miss Lanza without harming her or the child."

"And Mount Doom didn't even erupt," Maínomai said inanely. "I wasn't expecting things to work out this well."

"As you're no longer Cursed with Tragedy, you may well have to get used to it," the doctor said, poking Maínomai with his pen. "Keep moving; by the time I'm finished you're going to be done for the day."

"Yes Dr Moreau," Maínomai said, rolling his eyes. The other Mist let out a short bark of laughter.

"Dr Moreau, is it? Well I suppose I could turn you into a horse if you really wanted; you'd make a very fine racehorse."

"No," Pýř said repressively; he'd had _enough_ of Mist-melodrama and Curse-related ridiculousness for one day. "Maínomai."

"Fine, fine, I'll be good," his partner mumbled, stumbling slightly over the loose rocks. "Stupid mountain."

Pýř shook his head, hauled his partner up and swung him over his own shoulder in a fireman's carry; they'd move quicker this way, since the doctor clearly had no intention of waiting until they got to the car to unravel the Curse. Indeed, as expected Maínomai was fast asleep by the time they reached the road, so Pýř just had to strap him into his seat and drive back to the Varia Mansion while his partner snored gently.

* * *

Maínomai woke up as they turned toward's the Varia's castle and immediately felt terrible. "Pýř, we forgot about my brother. He's going to get married after he graduates." He added in a horrified whisper.

"The necklace is gone," his friend said as he turned the car down the drive. "And the Curse was poorly rooted in you and is geared towards females. He might have some Curse damage, but without the necklace as an anchor it should dissipate before he gets married and his children should Curse-free."

"I knew that, just didn't think that through. Sorry. I still want to do a check myself, so I need to know what to look for. Most Mist-scans are geared towards confirming what's already suspected so I'm going to have to get notes from Dr Moreau about that Curse, if only for my medical file here. Do you think I need to do a Cleanse of my rooms? It probably wouldn't hurt, but I'd need to know what I was looking for if not Mist-Flames."

"You didn't steal a copy of his notes?"

"Those notes are Bound; it's a type of Enchantment with close ties to Alteration and Conjuration. Most Mists don't bother with it aside from Enchanting weapons with a Binding which is also pretty rare even within the Varia. You need to be able to use some Mist Flames to access whatever's been Bound and I'd have to copy his Flames exactly to get access which is pretty noticeable."

"Does anyone use Bound weapons?"

"I've got a Bound machete inside my uniform jacket but I keep forgetting I have it since I don't feel the weight of it. I know that Captain Squalo's sword is Bound which is how it fits in his sleeves and how Bel carries so many knives, beyond some of them being Cloud-copies although I'm not sure which of Bel's secondary Flames are stronger. So getting hold of those notes without killing Dr Moreau is pretty much impossible even for the Varia."

His friend made a noise in the back of his throat.

"So instead I got his wallet." Maínomai said brightly as they parked, showing off his prize.

Pýř laughed.

"Do you want reimbursement for the bull or should we charge for the terrible bedside manner he had? Undue suffering of a patient, yeah? If nothing else we could go for a spot of credit card fraud for needless cruelty because that trick with his Territory and the Erica-illusion was just _mean_." Maínomai ended that bit of babble with a whine.

"I think I've got a better idea and we can pay the debt about the knowledge of the Curse and breaking it. It might end up with Dr Moreau kidnapped for a few days but go beg your friends in Medical to use their bureaucratic powers to get all the notes of the Curse for your medical file. They need to know what sort of 'damage' you've got after all. Dr Moreau didn't specify beyond it being permanent but the Varia will take that as a challenge."

Maínomai nodded. That made sense and he'd been meaning to spend time with the Sun Division anyway. "Maybe I can talk with some of the other Suns while I'm at it too, not just Magharibi."

* * *

Pýř sent his partner off to charm Magharibi, the Sun who pretty much ran all things chemical within Varia Medical; Maínomai was friendly with that particular Sun and had been since they tried a variety of medications for the Mist's ADHD shortly after it was diagnosed. They had found one that worked and that his partner could live with, but the use of it was minimal as his partner had long-since created coping strategies and the eventual energy crashes made work while travelling Europe and beyond more annoying than the extra focus was worth.

Instead, Pýř found Ghul and passed on the knowledge that the Vongola had a Curse-specialist that Maínomai referred to as Dr Moreau. Ghul's metaphor laden speech was remarkably less convoluted than normal and the Cloud suspected that Dr Moreau would soon be abducted for a day or three by a bunch of creepy Mists. If Dr Moreau wanted to pass his skills and specialty on, it was best for him to attempt to do so to the five Mists that worked at breaking Curses for the Varia; if nothing else, the Varia would get more information to work with concerning Curses.

Tomorrow he'd have to speak with various contractors to get started on building their new place; he could leave his partner with Erica for the day even if his partner could entertain himself with the rest of the Varia. It wasn't like the Mist knew much about construction and it was easy to plan out a house in advance with a few illusions to see how it would really look so everything had been extensively planned already; it just needed to get built which was easy as the paperwork and what permits were needed had gone through in record time thanks to Varia connections. He still needed to see someone about a plumber though as that was something he didn't know about.

Also he should probably call and ask if Erica was free for the day since she and his partner did need to talk.

* * *

Maínomai –wearing very nice civilian clothes– was escorted to Erica's rooms and let himself in –the Mist-made security was such that the footmen did not have access anymore– but did not find Erica in the sitting room. Instead he found a sleeping greyhound and Amadeo colouring in a book.

"Did your mom get you a dog?" He asked Erica's son. Her eldest once his daughter was born.

"No, Hamlet and Antony and Uncle Federico gave Mai-mai to Mamma. Did he name the dog after you?"

"No," Maínomai told the toddler, unwilling to let the child in the pun of the greyhound's name. Federico named the dog 'Never-never' and gave the dog to Erica. That was _real_ subtle of the Heir Vongola there. How very hypocritical of the man, too. "I just thought he was yours because Federico said that he was getting her a dog for Liberation Day, which is in April."

"Hamlet said that Federico already had the dog and when Great-grandma died, he said that Mamma needed more company so he gave Mai-mai to Mamma."

"Do you think I should get Federico a pet in return since he gave his dog to your Mamma?" He asked the little boy.

"What sort of pet?" Amadeo asked, lowering his crayon.

"A cat. Since he's going to be busy with the Vongola he needs a pet that can take care of itself." The Mist said virtuously. And it wouldn't be Maínomai's fault if the cat decided to make Federico have a terrible time of it catering to said beastie's whims. The Varia had some really intelligent cats, some of which were very big and some of which were very demanding. The question was, which cat? Not Oversight's 'spook' but maybe Banshee? Banshee was on the smaller end of the scale for one of the Varia's cats, but smart enough to open most doors and demanding enough to yowl loudly for attention. "Don't tell him, alright? It would spoil the surprise."

"I promise," Amadeo said seriously, looking Maínomai in the eyes as he did so.

"Good. Are you going to show me what you're colouring?"

* * *

Erica wandered back to her rooms after her conversation with her mother; she was already feeling the faint stirrings of boredom and while she couldn't officially do anything for Housekeeping, she could at least talk to a number of people and evaluate them for promotion or verify that their views were appropriate for their position. An intolerant doorman or server could imply or actually _be_ an insult to whoever visited; at the very least they'd set the tone for how the rest of the visit would go. Evaluations of the views and ideas of those within Housekeeping was something that needed to be done even if it wasn't work on the same level as what she did at the CEDEF.

"Maínomai?" She asked upon entering the room and seeing him there. "What are you doing here? You're earlier than I expected."

"Pýř's off doing boring adult things and I needed to talk to you about important adult things but I've got all day for that. So Amadeo and I have been colouring until you got back. I've also met Mai-mai and you can see how excited he was about that."

A glance proved that the greyhound was yawning and stretching before walking over to her. She reached a hand down automatically to stroke her new dog's head, even though she had had the greyhound for less than a week.

"Well, my day is also free but Amadeo's isn't. He's playing with friends today and having lunch with them, so I just need to take him over there and then I'll be right back."

* * *

Maínomai wasn't exactly looking forward to this upcoming conversation. Exactly how do you apologise for inflicting your unborn with a Family Curse you didn't even know you had? Had it done anything to his friend before Dr Moreau removed it? Dr Creepy said there was no permanent damage but Maínomai was unsure of what qualified as 'permanent damage' if it wasn't lethal or crippling in some manner. He didn't like the idea of there having been temporary damage the doctor had needed to fix either.

He couldn't even ask the dog for advice, not that Mai-mai could actually tell him anything; the greyhound had followed Erica and Amadeo out the door. Deciding to take over the recently vacated couch, he settled in for a short wait.

About seven minutes later Erica returned and settled onto the couch beside him, so Maínomai pulled her into his arms and basked in the subtle Tranquillity she gave off. Then the dog jumped up on the couch with them, which required some adjustment.

"So you and baby are Curse-free?" He asked.

"Yes, and I take it you've met the Vongola's Curse Specialist?" Erica sounded wryly amused, the traitor; then again, Maínomai knew that if he had to deal with somebody like _that_ regularly he'd probably have to tailor his sense of humour so as to take the sheer awfulness of the man's bedside manner in his stride.

"I've been calling him Dr Moreau." Maínomai admitted. "It fits pretty well. He's got terrible phone manners and pretty much told me that 'Miss Lanza and child had been afflicted with a particularly nasty Family Curse from you' when I didn't even know I had one, so I was worried. There was then the by-the-way mention of, 'I fixed that and it's a girl' which was surprising and complete with undertones of 'you twit, it's an obvious Curse' all over it. It was then pretty heavily implied that if the Family Curse couldn't be broken then I couldn't be around either of you unless I wanted to inflict both of you with a Curse of Tragedy again and then he went on to say 'yeah, you're pretty much permanently damaged by it so have fun with that as I fail to elaborate on what this damage consists of.' So we determined that the curse was attached to an heirloom that Pýř was going to give to the Varia's Curse-specialists who usually don't do medical Curses and the like. An hour or so later was when Dr Moreau finally decided it was unbreakable and it was best to just destroy the necklace. Then Pýř, myself and Dr Moreau took a trip to Mount Etna to toss the cursed jewellery into Mount Doom, after you know having Pýř sacrifice a bull as a prayer to the forge god who decided to curse the descendants of one of the children born of his wife's affairs, so he'd please kindly lift the Curse thank-you."

"What."

"Exactly. That was my yesterday. How was yours?" He asked in a clear attempt to change the subject.

"Far more boring. In fact that's what I was talking to my mother about, as without something more intellectual to do than spend time with my son and occasionally crochet, I'll go mad."

"Stealth evaluations?" Maínomai surmised after a few moments thought. "You were doing it at the Christmas and New Year's parties, so you can do it now. Slower but without much suspicion because you're bored while pregnant and Amadeo's got lessons and friends to play with and naps so you do have free time to chat with practically everyone."

"Is it that obvious?" Erica obviously hoped not; the entire point of stealth evaluations was after all that they were stealthy.

"Eh, probably not. Anyone that has an idea of what you really did at the CEDEF and a brain isn't going to be fooled for a minute, but I don't think there are many of those. If anybody else notices they'd have to be really observant and rather paranoid. That just means that they really should be promoted higher unless they're too troublesome to keep, in which case you can kill them so long as you have someone to replace them if they're really good at their job... wait, fire them. The Vongola's Housekeeping fires people or reassigns them. Well, you still could have them killed because the Vongola is mafia and we do that but well, you probably don't have to."

Erica giggled at that. Maínomai smiled because she didn't shy away from the reality of what the Varia did; the Vongola could pretty their illegal business up in nice suits and subtle language so even with the suspicion the staff could be segregated enough to be a minimal risk to operations, but there was no way to prettify what the Varia did enough to keep any member of their Housekeeping staff unaware of what the Varia did. Not when uniforms were sent to laundry with blood and gore on them, certain vehicles were kept reserved for the messier members of the Varia complete with blankets to cover blood stains in the backseat that wouldn't come out and there was even the occasional corpse dragged through the halls.

"So how was your visit home?" Erica asked. "You told me a bit about that over the phone but I haven't heard much since you've gotten back. Bisnonna's death took everyone by surprise and then the funeral happened so we haven't gotten much time to talk. Not unless you count me crying all over you as talking."

"It was good; better than it was last time, even. I saw my aunt, she was doing well. I think she's sad that my brother's moved out and that I haven't visited more often, although I do call frequently. She's still teaching dance so she's busy. I missed seeing my uncle but he's never been the same since my cousin died, probably due to that whole melodramatic and malicious Curse of Tragedy issue that's now dealt with. Did proximity with each other make it worse or something? It probably did, which is good since the Curse went with the necklace although I need to see my brother to make sure because he's engaged so I need the doctor's notes there but I've got my friend in Medical using official powers to pull those."

"Well at least the Curse is broken." Erica said.

"There's that, but whatever damage has been left behind needs to at least go in my medical records. Speaking of medical records, my parents had no outstanding medical issues mostly because they didn't live long enough to develop them so I also got my aunt's and Pýř obtained a copy of my paternal uncle's somehow. It turns out that people are rather resistant to the idea of telling a kid that 'oh, your mother's been put in the hospital by a vampire Dracula-wannabe and there's a chance she might not make it, so just pretend it's a fatal illness.' Now my father's death was different as someone ripped him in half. Would have been nice to know how he died sooner so I didn't think that I caused his death with a Mist-Curse for years."

"Did you even know how to use your Flames then?" Erica very interestingly did not comment on the vampire thing, which suggested she'd already known about them. Maybe from Ottava? The old lady's war-stories probably had vampires in them somewhere and she wouldn't have let her grandchildren wander out into the world without knowing the risks…

"Not really. I was ten, nearly eleven. Got in an argument with him and that's how I first used them which says everything about how I felt about him then. I wanted him to suffer, although I didn't specify how. I got news of his death when I was thirteen, which was two years of time spent learning how to use and the limits of Mist Flames on my own and well, it was a simple enough conclusion. I probably had something of a hand in it as the autopsy report said he had benign tumours causing pressure on his innards, but while probably painful that isn't exactly fatal immediately; likely caused lots of anxiety, medical worries and pain so suffering happened. Death happened when someone clamped a hand on a leg and another on his neck and pulled very hard in different directions. I need to talk about something different. Baby names?"

"I don't want to think about those at the moment. With Amadeo I obsessed over the names until I found what I thought was the perfect one and then when he was born I changed my mind," Erica sighed, shaking her head ruefully.

"Names have to fit after all." Maínomai said. "Those can't be decided until you know them. Not really." He did not comment on the various other concerns that had to have been attached to being a pregnant fifteen-to-sixteen-year-old with the father of her child very definitely _not_ in the picture. The man had been killed by her uncle shortly after assaulting her, if he'd heard between the lines right.

They lapsed into silence and cuddles as they both took a break and thought about things. There was a lot that needed to be said, really.

"I think I've figured out what to do when I do retire from the Varia. It's a few years away at least but my skill set and inclinations are such that I'll have issues if I ever try to work in the civilian sector at all as I have a leetle bit of trouble doing the same thing day after day. Translator is fine but the mafia's got enough fluent people that there's not much call considering that the six languages the Vongola advocates are pretty much the official underworld languages so most people learn them or know people who know them. Plus most people have issues with the kleptomania and that pretty much nixes any job that has even the remotest connections with politics; teaching languages and the like to heirs or whoever."

"Exactly how many languages do you know?"

"Fluently? Over fifty. And that's by Varia standards, so I could probably add on another thirty, including some that aren't really real. Someone did a report in Klingon once and that was rather hilarious even though the Captain wasn't remotely amused. I also know some computer languages, mostly enough to build in conditions and passwords to Enchantments... so that's something to build on and learn about in the future. I'll probably still work for the Varia in some fashion, probably computer based as more and more people are going digital for everything, so it'll keep me in the country, out of the field and not six hours away by plane."

"It'll be nice to have you close by even if you're busy."

"My dear are you saying that because I pamper you?" Maínomai teased.

"No, it's because you're sweet and funny and kind and a good friend even after our fling." It was things like this that made Erica wonderful: there was no other woman he had ever met who had ever been this nice to him. They always made an issue of the kleptomania or the scattiness or the being Varia, or occasionally of the being friendly to everybody, like he was flirting on purpose to upset them or something.

"So maybe that Curse wasn't too bad, at least for us. I mean if I hadn't wanted to avoid a repeat of something similar to The Great Patisserie Fiasco Of 1997 and get my shopping done we never would have met. Can't say that it's turned out that bad for us, all things considered. Oh and I should probably return Dr Moreau's wallet. I got it off of him yesterday."

"After lunch. I'm hungry." Erica said firmly.

"Alright. What do you want? Oh, and Mai-mai too?"

And if during lunch he happened to overhear that somebody had found a note saying that Dr Moreau had been abducted and would be returned in three days time, Maínomai could honestly say he was surprised; mostly that they abducted Dr Moreau so quickly. He would have thought tomorrow at the earliest... but well, they could still talk some more about things that Erica needed to know that Dr Moreau would eventually bring up should she ever see him again; would there be follow-ups for the Curse? It was still not something easy to bring up in a conversation at all. Lunch with a friend didn't have to include heavy conversation.

So after the servers had gone Maínomai steered the rest of the lunch conversation towards technicalities and subtleties of using Mist Flames; this time focusing on Mist-Curses which were actually a form of Alteration intent on causing harm towards a person's mental, physical or spiritual well-being. Enchantments were more temporary and took a small degree of focus and energy to maintain constantly; an Alteration took a far greater amount of Flames and Will but once done, any Alteration was permanent until reversed or released and thus 'broken.'

"So, what are you getting at?"

"Dr Moreau said the Curse wasn't Mist-Flame based and he couldn't break it, hence the Tolkien-inspired trip yesterday. He also said the Curse was poorly rooted in me, part of which might be due to me being male, partly to do with my never having worn the focus and part of it being to do with however said Curse decided what was 'Tragedy' and what wasn't. It had to get that information somehow, decide what was too much and what wasn't enough and influence circumstances around it. Tragedy isn't really an easy balance to strike, I'd think, because breaking people isn't tragic so much as pitiful and clearly the bloodline had to survive and pass on the necklace and thus the focus of the Curse. Broken people aren't usually reproductively successful barring certain specific circumstances and considering the times and ages, having children wouldn't always have been enough to ensure the bloodline's 'success' and continuation. I want the notes on the Curse so I can examine those and see how it works if I can. I couldn't examine it myself because the last time I saw it, I was going to put it on and now it's been melted."

"Putting the necklace on would have been bad, I assume."

"Would have made the Curse stick, at the very least. I wonder how it would have interacted with my Distorted sense of Tragedy, but probably oddly."

"Distorted sense of Tragedy?"

"Due to lots of things my understanding of Tragedy is odd. Distorted is how Mab put it, which doesn't have the best connotations. For me to call it that, it's either on the scale of a city-wide disaster or for a few individuals that I don't know very well. I know I can't recognize it when I see it and I don't see it in myself. Sure I know that some things are tragic, even if the word is being misused by definition but that's because someone else has said that first. It's why I'm not allowed to actually Mist-Curse anyone, especially if I use that word. There's a difference between a tragic accident where a car falls off a cliff killing or crippling those inside and a landslide that takes out a bridge and someone gets trapped with corpses for hours."

"Oh." Erica had clearly grasped the difference.

"See you understand the things that make something more or less tragic innately; to me, they happen as part of Reality so it's more a matter of really bad luck. It's also bad luck –to me– that someone trips in a bakery, freshly-baked desserts splatter everywhere, bags of sugar get knocked over and create a huge mess that was straight out of a comedy. I wasn't able to buy what I wanted that day." He pouted and then smiled, "That's the summary of what happened during The Great Patisserie Fiasco Of 1997. There're other incidents like that, although not that extensive. So having that Curse makes things like that explainable although I had thought it was just bad luck on my part. It doesn't make me crazy and isn't the source of my Varia-name but it's something you do need to know about because Dr Moreau is probably going to mention it somehow when we eventually go to return the wallet I borrowed if only to ask how I and everyone else missed whatever signs he's seeing. I mean, there's someone that we suspect has a jacket curse, because he keeps losing them or getting them irreparably damaged –mostly irreparably damaged actually– but since it's harmless and some of us are annoyed at him for that microphone prank from a year ago no one's checked for that on purpose."

Erica laughed again. "A jacket curse?"

"Four of them in a week one time," Maínomai confirmed. "He's more or less been one of the testers for uniform durability since so if it exists, it's been doing the protection factor on the uniforms a favour. Not his wallet but well, the Varia does pay well."

"At least your work is never boring."

"The Varia lives to surprise."

And later Maínomai wasn't truly surprised that Dr Moreau was 'otherwise occupied' and was 'off of the estate' as the Medical's secretary-type person said. So Maínomai left the wallet he had 'found' with the office and took Mai-mai for his run while Erica watched.

* * *

Translations

Maínomai = I am raving mad, I am out of my mind (Greek)

Pýř = glowing ash (Czech)

Joia = jewel, treasure (Portuguese)

Mótek = Sweetie (Hebrew)

Keunmul = flood; literally 'plenty of water' (Korean)

Derecho = windstorm with straight-line winds; also right –the direction, the legal sense and correctness– and direction (Spanish)

Senka = shadow (Serbo-Croatian); also sunk (Norwegian Bokmål); 'spoils of war' or 'war damage' (Japanese)

Glace = ice, ice cream, glass, mirror (French)

Loup = wolf (French)

Susi = wolf; also dud (Finnish)

Jeeër = hunter (Luxembourgish)

Mistkerl = literally 'dung-person'; bastard, unpleasant person (German)

Doamne = God, as in the Christian God (Romanian)

Ghul = ghoul, the spirit that feeds on corpses (German/Polish)

Dr Moreau = vivisectionist and surgeon from the H G Wells book 'The Island of Doctor Moreau'.

Omake: Consulting Dr Moreau

Squalo had heard all about Maínomai and Pýř's little trip to Etna from Kuchisake, who had thought it was _hilarious_ that they'd had to sacrifice a cow on top of a volcano to somehow get Maínomai de-Cursed. How that worked the swordsman had no idea but it might have been a Clause; putting Clauses into Curses made them less effort to cast, although they carried the risk that the Cursed person would manage to take advantage of the Clause to un-Curse themselves. It wasn't really his problem though, other than learning that the kleptomaniac Mist _had_ been Cursed and that it had probably had a knock-on effect on past missions.

Considering some of the things that had happened on his world tour while he had Maínomai on his Squad, Squalo could definitely see that being the case. So as punishment for not noticing sooner Squalo had ordered Maínomai to find _all_ the reports of every mission he'd ever taken and hand them over to Housekeeping's Curse Division for analysis. The report would probably take a few weeks, as Maínomai had been part of the Varia for a bit more than five years and been involved in a _lot_ of missions due to his linguistic and social skills.

The phone rang; Squalo answered it.

"Varia Mansion, Superbi speaking."

"Hello Squalo," it was Madam Vongola; Squalo had got to know her rather well back when he first met Boss. It had been very _educational_. "I have reason to believe the Varia have borrowed Vongola Medical's Curse Specialist; could we have him back before Thursday morning please? He has appointments scheduled that really can't be postponed."

Squalo's mind whirled trying to think of who she could mean. "Is this about Dr Moreau?" That was the only Curse Specialist the Varia were likely to be interested in, as he'd diagnosed Maínomai and Magharibi had demanded the day before yesterday that he sign off on her 'request' for the man's notes on the Mist's condition so they could be added to his Varia medical records.

"That is not _actually_ his name, but it will suffice," Maria-Chiara Vongola said, sounding faintly amused. "And yes, I do mean him. Vongola Medical also has a fund set aside to pay the expenses of anybody apprenticing to a Specialist provided they are willing to serve in Vongola Medical for a minimum of a decade following completion of their training and train a successor before leaving, so do make that known to whoever has taken an interest in him."

Well that would be a very nice post-Varia career if you could get it; Squalo suspected that being a Curse Specialist in Medical paid very well indeed.

"Thursday?" he checked.

"Or sooner; preferably Wednesday night as he'll need to be able to actually _work_ on Thursday," the Head of Housekeeping said dryly. "Seriously, Superbi; don't make me come over there."

Now _that_ was a threat. It was even a _good_ threat.

"I'll pass on the reminder of the doctor's previous engagements."

"Thank-you." The line went dead; Squalo set down the receiver and set off out of his office towards Medical; if they weren't there he'd have to check the basement where the Curse-breakers had their workshops. The sooner he passed on Madam Vongola's threat the sooner he could go back to his own paperwork.

Squalo struck out at Medical, as the place was emptier than Squalo ever remembered seeing it. The door guard had only mentioned that Dr Moreau had been taken to the basement. One of the Sun apprentices on duty added that they had borrowed one of the lecture halls, holding up his phone as proof. Slipping down into the nearest occupied lecture hall, Squalo found a few Varia –mostly Suns and a few Varia he knew had secondary Mist Flames like himself– comparing notes and theories about types of Curse damage and how to fix them. As the technical terms were new and went over his head, Squalo realised he was going to have to get a report and preferably a complete copy of the original notes as well.

Those Varia had no issue directing him to the workshops below where 'half the class' had absconded with Dr Moreau. It really made Squalo wonder if there was something about Mist Flames that turned people into kidnappers. Nilla and the Harpies had kidnapped Federico, Kuchisake had kidnapped both Joia and her current apprentice, and now it seemed that half of the Mist Division had conspired to acquire and contain Dr Moreau.

Upon finding them in the first Curse-shop –the sign on the door proclaimed it was 'Curse-shop #1'– Squalo peeked in and upon spotting an unfamiliar Mist in a Vongola Medical coat, passed the message on from Maria-Chiara, which was received to the sound of groans and many pouts. He added that he wanted a report and that they could always kidnap Dr Moreau again –there were many cheers about that– but it was better that if they wanted a guest-lecturer to schedule such things through Housekeeping beforehand.

Squalo returned to his office to focus on his paperwork, wondering as he did so why all the people he knew were insane. And why it was all Mists had no problem with kidnapping, even if Dr Moreau had seemed happy with being kidnapped.

Omake: Federico's New Cat

Maínomai was with Fuseau when they dropped Banshee off for her new owner. Mab had named Banshee but well, fond of the cat she might be... the cat didn't measure up to the value of a full night's sleep and uninterrupted sex. The two Mists and cat didn't even have to break in; Maínomai was a familiar face to the doorman, Fuseau was just one of his friends who was also Erica's friend and the cat probably hadn't even been noticed, under illusion as it was.

Finding Federico's rooms was also easy as Erica had told him that the upper floors of the Vongola Wing were pretty much empty, bar a few rooms that were actually in use. So a little bit of investigation showed which rooms belonged to who. They didn't want to leave Banshee in Boss' old room, for instance, even if the cat could break out with a little time and effort. Breaking into Federico's room was a bit difficult but easy enough for two people of Varia Quality.

Federico's large suite of rooms was currently empty, so Fuseau produced a few last minute touches. A bit of brushing of the tuxedo-patterned silver and white cat had the cat's fur smooth and in order. The brushing also kept the cat's attention long enough for Maínomai to wrap a ribbon and note around the cat's throat, tying the ribbon into one of those large bow-shapes and then petting Banshee until the imperious feline decided to investigate her new domain thoroughly.

Listening to Fuseau's farewell speech to the cat was a little strange and proved that the other Mist was attached to that cat despite his willingness to 're-home' it at Federico's expense. Not quite attached enough to keep said cat though; Banshee had earned her name and someone had long since Altered her 'fixed' and well, the Varia had some very disturbingly smart cats and Banshee was smart enough that she could even open some types of locked doors.

A little prodding with Mist Flames and it was simple to send the cat to sleep until Federico got in. Then he and Fuseau went to collect Erica and Amadeo to have fun in the gardens; Mab had work to do today after all and spending time with Erica had been their reason for showing up at the Iron Fort in the first place.

It was the next day however that the results of their decision to drop off Banshee showed their worth as according to rumour the Vongola Heir had actually liked the cat, despite it doing moderate injury to his Lightning's fingers. His Storm was even carrying the cat around.

"Here's ta Banshee, the most conniving cat I ever saw." Fuseau said. "Cat ought to cut down on how many lovers Federico brings ta bed; less chance of someone turning him inta a corpse in tha bedroom. May Banshee show her true colours soon."

Maínomai didn't hear anything for over a week despite visiting Erica every day, so Banshee's becoming a Vongola cat slipped to the back of his mind since entertaining his pregnant friend and getting to know her son were more important. However when one wet April morning the side-door to the Vongola Family Wing was opened by a giggling maid rather than a placid footman –as a regular visitor Maínomai had been introduced to said side-door's existence and was permitted to use it– the Mist knew at once that something had happened.

"What's going on?" He asked curiously.

The maid's giggling made her tricky to understand, but Maínomai soon got the jist and was chuckling as well as she accompanied him to Erica's suite, occasionally pausing for breath or to gesture extravagantly.

The rain had started at about four-thirty in the morning, at which point the Heir's new cat had promptly decided it wanted to go outside. As it had been locked in the Heir's suite with said Heir and Guardians, it had decided that the best way to get out was to have a person open a door or window for it. The yowling had not only roused Federico and his Guardians –who had been sleeping off the alcoholic after-effects of a birthday party– but half of the other residents, who had all been convinced their Heir was being murdered horribly.

The cat had been terribly offended by all the shouting and confusion and expressed her displeasure by inflicting deep wounds to the hands of Federico and five out of six Guardians, then clawed at the calves of the invading Mafiosi attempting to 'assist' their Heir until Macbeth the Storm Guardian had placated her with tinned mackerel and opened the window for her so she could lounge on the sill and enjoy the rain.

Then, as if this was not enough, half an hour after the fuss died down the cat had decided that rain-watching had lost its charm and hunted down the Vongola Heir in Medical, where he was getting his injuries tended to, and wrapped herself around his shoulders, half-smothering him with her soaking wet fur and refusing to be budged.

The Look Erica gave him when she let him into her suite was just too much for Maínomai; the reluctantly amused gleam in her eyes as Amadeo dashed out to hug his knees and babble about his unexpectedly early morning had him laughing so hard he had to be helped across the room to lie on her sofa with his head in her lap.

"I have a feeling you are responsible for my uncle's rather demanding new lady-friend," Erica said dryly once he'd calmed down a bit, which just set him off whooping with laughter again. It took him a further twenty minutes to stop, by the end of which he'd given himself hiccups and Amadeo was sprawled across his stomach, giggling madly for no real reason other than that Maínomai had set him off.

"This is about Mai-mai, isn't it," Erica concluded as she stroked his hair, proving once again that she was Quality.

"I couldn't let the precedent stand," Maínomai admitted from where he was sprawled across her legs. "I'm Varia; it" –hic– "would look bad."

"Well, rest assured that my mother feels that Federico should have known better than to lock a cat in a room overnight and that Macbeth is sufficiently attached to said cat to ensure that his Sky will be unable to get rid of it without resorting to murder," Erica informed him with a rather conniving smile. Ah, so _she_ hadn't liked the subtext either. "The staff like Banshee too, Security included: it foiled a poisoning attempt three days ago."

Oh, that was even _better_ ; Federico would _never_ be able to get rid of Banshee now. Revenge was _sweet_.


	5. Parenting is not a Varia Quality 5

This chapter is set towards the end of September '99 leading into October, so before Hector was born in the main storyline over in Black Sky. Enjoy the continuing Varia shenanigans!

* * *

 **Parenting is not a Varia Quality**

Pýř had just got back from a series of missions in the Caribbean, for which he and Maínomai had been accompanied by a pair of Suns and a Storm. As a result he was about five hours behind Italian-time and completely exhausted by the sheer effort involved in keeping up with two peppy Suns; even though his partner was also a relatively energetic person dealing with three such individuals at once and a tetchy Storm as well had been challenging and he'd almost lost his temper twice.

So when somebody tried to wake him up at what felt like mere moments after he'd finally fallen asleep, the Cloud blindly reached for the knife under his pillow with his Flames and threw a copy of it at the intruder's centre of mass.

"Manners, Pýř," came the brisk, no-nonsense tones of Mab, making Pýř curse creatively into his pillow in Latvian. Mab wasn't somebody he could murder horribly because Mab was Housekeeping now and Tyrant took offense when people maimed or killed his people.

"Why?" The Cloud demanded, opening his eyes a scant fraction and glaring at the Mist intruding on his sleep. The hovering redhead folded her arms and glared at him.

"I just got a call from Vongola Medical; Erica's having the babe _now_ and she's asking for you both," the pixie-ish Mist said coolly, illusory dragonfly wings holding her aloft. "Maínomai's traps are a pain to get through, so Wanhope's sleep-walking him into the shower for me."

There were few defences that could hold against a Puppeteer, not that the Varia had much practice at it as Wanhope did not as a rule participate in the low-key pranking and breaking-and-entering that most of them indulged in when bored or irritated with somebody. Maínomai was probably going to be upset about this and want to re-do his _entire_ security Alteration system so it never happened again, which would take _hours_ in which he'd be good for nothing else while he plotted it all out.

Wait, Erica? Baby? _Now_?

Pýř rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom; cold water would wake him up a bit and caffeine would do the rest. "Thanks," he managed before closing the door behind him; Mab got testy when you didn't appreciate her efforts. However it was a very grudging thanks, because Pýř had that awful hung-over feeling that jetlag always left him with and what he _really_ wanted to do was strangle Mab with the blankets then go back to bed until his brain stopped complaining that it was far too early. Usually he'd spend an hour thinking calm thoughts and drinking tea, but he clearly wasn't going to get that luxury today.

Bah. The things he put up with for Maínomai's sake…

Upon dressing, arming himself and stumbling out of his room Pýř found himself face to face with Maínomai, who was fully dressed in civilian clothing with slightly damp hair… and still fast asleep. Wanhope had sleepwalked Pýř's partner through his morning routine then out of his room without the other Mist even stirring. _That_ was creepy. Amusing, but creepy. Reaching out, Pýř poked his partner with a tendril of Flames then ducked easily as Maínomai flailed into awareness, stumbling into a side-table when he lost his balance due to being unexpectedly upright.

"Pýř! What! Where? How?" His partner babbled, blinking owlishly at the Cloud as he caught the vase of flowers before it toppled over on him.

"Erica's in Vongola Medical and asking for us," Pýř said elliptically, not trusting that the hall was secure enough for straightforwardness. "Wanhope got you up."

"Wait, _now_?" Maínomai had clearly caught the implications: he'd gone a lovely shade of sickly yellow.

"Now," Pýř agreed, grabbing his partner's arm and dragging him off towards the stairs when he failed to move by himself. It was too early for this _Scheiß_ and he needed a drink.

As it turned out Mab had prepared a flask of tea for him, which Pýř silently accepted as he got into the waiting car –which was definitely clean as there was a faint, lingering bite of Storm Flames in the air– and drove off down towards the Vongola Mansion, Maínomai uncharacteristically silent in the passenger seat next to him. Well, perhaps not so uncharacteristically: Maínomai was clearly torn between freaking out over impending parenthood and fretting over how easily Wanhope had bypassed the Alterations securing his room. His partner was also well aware of how testy Pýř got when jetlagged, so was sensibly keeping his rambling mental monologue internal.

It being five thirty in the morning according to the clock on the dashboard, Pýř was not surprised by how empty the roads were. The pitch blackness was irritating –why couldn't Sicily embrace modernity and install streetlamps– but good headlights and slightly Multiplied eyesight compensated for that, even on the narrow farm roads. There weren't even any slightly intoxicated idiots on their way home after a night out, which was probably for the best; the Cloud recognised that with his mood being what it was, he'd have done something traumatic and permanent to anybody showing that degree of Stupid.

They arrived at Vongola Medical in due time; all the trips to and from the Vongola had made the way automatic for the Cloud. Driving the roads the way on what felt like two hours sleep was no problem.

* * *

Pýř had a problem with Mab's lack of clarity once they arrived at Vongola Medical. Pýř's room had been secure enough to tell him more than that his goddaughter was being born, unlike the halls. Erica's water had broken so she was in labour, but she wasn't fully dilated yet. It was obvious that while Maínomai had time to adjust to the idea of a child being born, he didn't exactly like the fact that Erica was currently in pain because of the impending birth.

Catching Erica's eye, he looked intently towards his partner. She was clearly a Quality lady who knew Maínomai far too well at this point, as she promptly reached for a hand and started a stream of conversation. His partner had seriously lucked out.

Pýř did a quick scan of the room, hauled a chair over so he had a corner of the room to himself and was closest to the door as he attempted to become an island of serenity. This was much harder on a few hours sleep. Their time in the Caribbean hadn't been that bad, and they had even had time to do some tourist-things, where his partner had showed his skills at avoiding the expensive wastes of time for something that was more fun. Sometimes even Quality fun.

The series of missions went well, the Suns and Storm were almost unneeded, but as both of the Suns were recently named they needed experience. So his partner Altered some diving gear, gave some impromptu diving lessons, took a Sun and the Storm with him for a few hours and then there was one less drug smuggling ship sailing around. It had sunk with all its crew dead, including the guy who broke his deal with one of the American mafia dons; that the American had hired the Varia showed _that_ Mafioso at least followed a certain code, since the Varia, being part of the Vongola, didn't deal with those that dealt with drugs or human trafficking so who knew what was actually being smuggled that had drugs mixed up in it. So they then busted up the rest of the target's operation in ways that were deemed impossible; Maínomai did scary Mist-tricks that practically lobotomized those with information so as to get it all, allowing them to be thorough in their work and take out everyone that couldn't get out of the region in less than six hours once their little operation started. All the drugs found had been Disintegrated as the Varia had no use for them, including those on the ship, which was done prior to the ship sinking so no fish or potential mermaids would be getting stoned; allowing Maínomai to Alter his blood chemistry so he didn't have to breathe -he could hold his breath for over an hour without intense physical exercise like this- when he burned the contents of the warehouse leaving not even glowing ash out of what appeared to previously be a bonfire. He didn't even scorch the floor, which had made the Storm grumpier as he'd clearly felt that Pýř was showing him up.

That had been their biggest and last mission –a series of missions in and of itself– before they headed home and Pýř had managed to not strangle the sulky Storm or disembowel the Sun who hadn't heard of tact. He should think of more amusing things.

Maínomai's birthday on September 9th had been amusing, even if they had tag-a-longs in the Storm and two Suns; despite the Curse being lifted, his partner still got in awkward situations, like getting all of them mistaken for a group that was holding an expensive bachelor's party –who else but the filthy rich would have one in the Caribbean? – for the sulky Storm. The two Suns had thought it was hilarious and gone along with idea, shelling out some of their own money for a private dining room in a restaurant and copious quantities of alcohol. Pýř had understood about half of what was said to create such an impression, but his partner had masses of fun as a present to himself.

Also amusing was that according to Maínomai, one of the Suns had their name misspelled so the difference between the supposed and actual meaning was immense and more proof that the Varia should have a little more care when assigning names; fluent in seven languages might be a requirement but learning more was preferred, for ease of communication and advancement purposes. This took practice, even if you had a Mist willing to help out. As the Varia were human, there were accidents with naming; language flubs, usually in spelling or pronunciation. However it took something special or very memorable to earn a new name, so the Sun was pretty much stuck with his, like Pýř was with his. Pýř's name was meant to be 'Pyre' but between poor English, terrible handwriting and a couple of coffee stains had been processed as Pýř. Also the name was reportedly Czech but most people even within the Varia didn't bother with Czech, preferring Russian, so the mistake hadn't been caught within the first week when it was potentially fixable.

In all honesty, the Suns were the worst about spelling errors in Naming as too much time doing Medical-stuff decayed everyone's handwriting to illegibility, except for Lussuria's and a few others; it made reading new Names a chore if you didn't know what the scribble was supposed to be. The Suns were practical about the names they gave for the most part –bar the rise of endearments as Names which was more a symptom of Lussuria than anything else– as were the Rains but the Rains actually cared about proper punctuation and meaning as getting it wrong offended their sensibilities. It was better than the allusions and metaphors used by the Mists, the allusions done hilariously wrong by the Lightnings, the recent trend in historical names of mass murderers and more odd mascot-like names since Bulldog retired by the Storm Division. Most Clouds that named others went for irony; some however lacked creativity and went for something bland and uninformative like 'knife'.

It made Pýř wonder what Maínomai and Erica would name their little girl once she was born. Maínomai had said they hadn't really discussed it, as Erica had changed her mind at the last minute for Amadeo, so while his partner had preferences for names he wanted to meet his daughter and see which one suited her best, if any that he liked fit after being born anyway.

Everything else had already been prepared: the house was built, decorated and furnished. It had been built exactly as designed, two stories tall. The ground floor had a washroom to the right of the entrance so filthy boots could be left there and not leave a trail of dirty footprints throughout the house; the wash room also held the laundry machines. The kitchen was large and dominated the right side of the house because Maínomai had won almost all of the arguments about the kitchen, from the choice in tiling to appliances; he was going to be the one to use it most after all. Pýř had claimed the room to the left of the entrance as his. His door was officially in the short hall off of the entrance, which led to the visiting Varia bunk room and a functional bathroom; it had a toilet and shower but no tub. The only other thing of note n the ground floor was the staircase along wall across the house from the official door; the house belonged to an Alteration specialist so there were secret passages and exceptions later added to the house.

Upstairs also held more bedrooms and his partner had an Altered wall as part of his room so anyone trying to go up or down the stairs was in a kill-zone. Maínomai's room and his daughter's room shared a wall, the 'guest bedroom' was next to what was currently the nursery and decorated for Erica, as she was the only non-Varia guest they planned on inviting over, with the exception of her son. There was an open area upstairs that was going to be used as a living room. In regards to the fact that Maínomai's daughter and Erica were women, they also had the full bathroom upstairs and that was closest to the stair landing. Next to the bathroom upstairs was a room that had been designated as office-space and doubled as a library, so it was officially a Study. That room held a secret staircase that led up to the roof and broke the laws of physics through intense Alteration, as it both did and didn't exist. The rooftop top looked like terraced garden and not a sniper's nest that it actually was, although there was a small cupboard containing a folding table and chairs up there so it could be used as a garden area.

There was no specific room set aside for Amadeo because when consulted, the four-year-old had been so enamoured of the idea of sleeping on a bunk bed that he'd wanted to use that room while visiting. Since neither Pýř nor Maínomai had even the _slightest_ intention of having both Varia guests and Erica's son in the building at the same time, that wouldn't be a problem.

Most of the house was entirely Mediterranean in style as a concession to the climate; white walls and brown tile flooring, although Maínomai hadn't been satisfied with just one shade of brown. The way the shades of browns were laid out wasn't in anyway organized or tied into the security, as that would be an amateur mistake. The exceptions were the bathrooms which were tiled in blue and the kitchen that was tiled in oranges and yellows. His partner liked colour after a childhood of drab, faded decorations, much like Pýř preferred to wear fine clothes. This explained why despite some people's expectations, the place didn't look like it had been designed or decorated by two stereotypical heterosexual men; they both appreciated the finer things in life, so they put them in the house. It wasn't like Pýř had horrible taste either so people weren't just going to find the bare minimum of furniture.

The nursery had yellow pillows in the rocking chair, gold sheets for the cot and a white pine chest with a bronze pillow top that already had baby things in it; there was even a window with pale yellow curtains although it couldn't be found from the outside, much less opened, as the window had been Altered in a way that was confusing even to other Mists but was best summed up as 'did not actually exist in this reality despite appearing to'. Instead the nursery had an air-vent in the ceiling with a medical-grade filter, so the air would get changed regularly without compromising on security.

Other rooms followed a variation in fabric colour, although Maínomai probably liked that garish wall-hanging made from one of Fuseau's dye experimentation periods slightly too much; it didn't really fit with his mostly blue room. Pýř's was mostly dove grey, but the jewel-tone green sheets and a few knick-knacks made it seem the other way around; Kuchisake had been impressed at their decorating skills, but especially with the standing screen and the contents of the fabric chest in the visiting Varia bunkroom. They had to stop her from trying to walk out with one of those quilts, as it was one of the ones that went up at the Varia's internal auction every so often. Mab already had 'seen' most of the furniture as it had been ordered through the Varia's contacts, so the furniture had been shipped in from Florence then redirected to the house, but she admitted it was a nice place; that had been back in early August so at the moment all the nice furniture and everything else was collecting dust.

* * *

Vaguely irritated was about as serene as he was going to get without tea, so Pýř took another swig from his flask and tried to find serenity while jet-lagged, in an unfamiliar place, around less familiar Flame-users, while his partner was otherwise occupied and Erica was about to give birth once she dilated enough for it to be safe to push. As a Cloud who's Territory was people instead of a job, cause or place and as a Varia assassin who hadn't decompressed from mission stress...

... it might be best to find something more soothing than tea. He was unlikely to get it though and Maínomai was now pacing, as Erica was experiencing contractions. Pýř therefore sent Maínomai off to get drinks and something to eat because, while they were both irritated and jetlagged, there was no reason to be hungry on top of that. Were they even allowed to eat in here?

A quarter of an hour later his partner returned with some breakfast food, if not much, a few canned drinks and someone to check on the dilation that the Mist watched with too sharp eyes even though the medical official was in the appropriate uniform and wasn't even Flame-active. Pýř assumed that they were allowed or that the medical official was incompetent, so he asked Erica who had at least gone through this once before.

"We are allowed to be in here, right?" He asked once the medic person had left again.

Erica actually giggled, which did more to diffuse Maínomai's nerves than the brisk medical professional's assessment of 'not long now'. "Oh yes: it's kind of a funny story really. I'd not really noticed but Maínomai bears a vague resemblance to my brother and uncle, so all the maids and footmen assumed he was my cousin or something when he came visiting. This means that in the visitor's logs he's listed as 'Maínomai, of the Varia and the Lanza Family'. Which, since I'm a Lanza and none of my other relatives have bothered to step in and indicate otherwise –my mother included– means he gets family privileges."

Pýř watched in amusement at his partner's jaw dropped. "I look like a Lanza?" Maínomai repeated, obviously completely baffled.

"Specifically you look like a taller, thinner and much, much prettier version of my father," Erica said ruefully, "not that I remember him well enough to be able to tell; he died when I was seven. My mother pointed it out to me when the staff's misunderstanding came to my attention."

That made it really not at all surprising that Erica's tastes ran to men who looked like her father; she'd never get past that childhood phase most girls seemed to go through of idolising their parents. At least his partner was her age, being newly twenty-four rather than the implied much older man that sired Amadeo.

"Pretty?" Maínomai pouted. "Can't I be handsome or something more manly?"

Erica twitched at the word 'manly', leading Pýř to infer that the word held unpleasant implications for her; probably from Iemitsu, the narcissist. "But I _like_ pretty, Maínomai," the Rain said plaintively, blinking huge, wide eyes up at the Mist. "I could –ah! – spend hours enjoying how you look and move."

Maínomai went pink, shuffled his feet then gave his friend a narrow-eyed glare. "You're teasing me!"

"Yes, I am," Erica admitted easily. "But it's still the truth. You are my very pretty friend and if you were a woman I'd probably hate your guts because you're prettier than I am."

Pýř smirked evilly at his partner's flustered reaction; watching this was highly entertaining and doing wonders for his mood.

* * *

Maínomai was doing his best to keep up with the back-and-forth teasing match Erica had instigated at his expense –which wasn't easy considering part of his brain had totally shorted out under the strain of _ohGodErica'sgivingbirth_ and _whatdoIdo?_ – when the door opened to reveal Maria-Chiara and a Cloud who resembled her slightly while being taller and darker-haired with bright purple eyes.

"Hey there big sister," the young man said with a faint grin, eyes darting sharply from Maínomai to Pýř then back to Erica. "I see I've been upstaged in your affections yet again."

Erica huffed and rolled her eyes. "Stop that, Ruggero; I know you would much rather _not_ see me when I'm like this. Last time you locked yourself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out until half an hour after it was all over and even then mother had to promise you I was okay before you opened the door."

"I wasn't even fourteen yet! You were screaming and Uncle Fede was dismembering the furniture!" Ruggero protested hotly, gesturing expressively as he did so. "The Tragedians were all fidgeting and getting luminous around the eyes! Retreating made total sense!"

"Then be glad Federico's in Milan right now," Erica informed her brother. "I know I am."

"God yes; you'd think it was him having the baby," Ruggero agreed, grabbing a chair and pulling it up so he was sitting next to his sister. "Now introduce me to the guy who looks like he might be one of Uncle Umberto's brood and his scowly friend."

"Ruggero, these are my friends Maínomai and Pýř," Erica said shortly, pausing to breathe through a contraction. "Maínomai, Pýř, this is my younger brother Ruggero."

Pýř just nodded from his seat in the corner, so Maínomai tried to be a bit more effusive. "Hi there! Sorry I haven't had a chance to meet you earlier; where have you been? I've been in and out of the Vongola Mansion at least twice a week since March, except for the past month because it's September and September's always really busy work-wise. It's like the kids go back to school then all the parents go back to work and set about working hard and trying to get all the ideas they had while relaxing on the beach implemented so business can continue. It makes you wonder how many people consider plotting homicide a relaxing holiday activity, it really does."

Ruggero chuckled. "I've mostly been keeping up with my sister by phone: I've just finished my last year at the Academy and I've been working in Supply after classes and in the holidays." Supply was the Vongola House responsible for sourcing items; those items would then be transported by Logistics to wherever they needed to be.

"And you did quite exceptionally well in your exams too, darling," Maria-Chiara said from where she'd been standing over by the door. "Now Erica dear, how are you doing?"

"Pretty well, I think," Erica said tightly. "I don't think it's going to take much longer; maybe _Piccina_ is in more of a hurry than Amadeo was?"

"It's your second child, dear; the second one is generally quicker than the first one, as your body's done it before," Maria-Chiara said briskly. "Now would you tell me why you've got a bright-eyed Storm-Cloud lurking in the corner and scaring the staff?"

Maínomai turned around and tried to look at his partner objectively. Pýř was slumped in his chair, slightly hunched over his cup of tea and frowning at the room from distinctly bruised-looking and lidded eyes. His actual eye colour was usually pink, but right now it was a swimming, swirling, opalescent mix of pink and purple that had faded out his pupils to scarlet and was rather unnerving. All in all, Pýř looked like he was waiting for an excuse to rip somebody's head off.

"We only got back from our last mission last night," Pýř said in a studiously even tone that indicated he was making an effort to stay on an even keel. His partner really did not like getting up early and loathed jetlag.

"It was in the Caribbean," Maínomai said quickly, "so we're about five hours behind local time and only got three hours sleep due to jet lag. I'm pretty much running on adrenaline right now but Pýř's just tired. Being tired makes him irritable." Never mind that Pýř hated mornings even on a good day when he'd got a full eight hours sleep. "September's really, really busy for us and we've got another mission set up for Friday that'll take at least a fortnight to complete." Actually it was four back-to-back missions, all which involved so much heavy lifting and well-timed destruction that he and Pýř had been assigned a pair of Lightnings to work with.

"That does not explain his rather, ah, _atypical_ eye-colour," Maria-Chiara pointed out.

It was true that Pýř's eyes did not react at all normally to Flames; generally a person's eyes were lightened and their pupils were tinted by their Flame-type, the colouring being more obvious the lighter a person's eye colour naturally was. However Pýř's eyes were not naturally pink, like his hair was not naturally blue. Explaining that however... well, how to avoid mentioning his friend was, as ironic as it sounded for an assassin, night-blind?

"Pýř?" He asked, for permission. The Cloud nodded, so now Maínomai could explain it; some of it. "Pýř has an eye condition that can't be corrected with glasses or surgery so his eyes have been Altered by Mist-Flames to function properly. The colouring of the iris is almost entirely cosmetic."

" _Almost_ entirely cosmetic?" The head of Housekeeping asked in a way that said she wasn't asking.

"Varia Medical has colour-codes for the colour for any Altered eyes, which does nothing but remind Varia Medical personnel that his eyes are Altered and why. Mostly so no idiot gets the idea that the Alteration needs to be removed, does something gloriously Stupid and gets people killed by the panicking Varia who can't see when they wake up in Medical." Maínomai explained, not adding in the story that went with that official policy being decided; a Rain had gone on a rampage and being near-blind hadn't made him any less deadly. It was an old story that dated back to Tyrant's time as Boss and the story was more memorable because it didn't end with 'so Tyrant killed him' like most of the stories passed down about the Head of Varia's Housekeeping did; he _did_ kill the meddling Mist though, after knocking the Rain out. "To a superficial scan, any Alteration can read as a Mist-Curse, because the only thing that truly separates Alterations and Curses is intent and function so the eye-colour is important."

"Is this oddity typical for those sorts of fixes?"

Taking a breath, Maínomai continued. "No, that's a sign the Alteration is breaking down because making the Alteration permanent for eyes is Stupid because the condition can get worse over time. The fact that Pýř's eyes are appearing strange is because of cell-turnover and the fact he has Storm Flames which tends to make the really delicate Alteration work degrade faster over time anyway so it becomes less effective. It's really delicate work all over even for a specialist."

"Is the colour change required for this... workaround?" The older Rain asked.

"Not always; it depends on the eye-issue and severity because some conditions make certain colours unwise. Altering the colour is in theory easy since naturally light eye colours like green or blue happen because of light scattering due to the variable structure of the iris; more exotic colours like pink, orange, some other colours take more effort and changes to the pigment so you don't end up with a light-sensitivity issue. It's not required because for most eye conditions colour is essentially cosmetic. I could change it, I have done it as a temporary job and more permanently, as I specialise in Alteration, but I'd rather not do something that delicate on three hours sleep, jetlagged and with my friend in labour with our daughter. Hair, yes. Eyes, no."

"And this Alteration degradation will be fixed?"

"I have a yearly appointment for a full-review and renewal of my eyes' Alteration and three quarterly check-ups. I'll see Medical before Friday." Pýř practically growled. Except his friend had left off that the appointment was actually in October because the less Mist Flame residue around the eyes before a 'renewal' the easier it was to do perform it without complications. The 'old' Alteration had to be removed entirely otherwise complications happened –like total blindness, losing an eye or whatever– and it was an intense irritant all around.

Maínomai didn't blame his friend for the extra irritation; the full-review and renewal took hours of work, testing and grumpiness because no one liked admitting weaknesses, even for medical purposes and the Mist that did it was rather irritating and a perfectionist on top of that. The quarterly check-ups were more of regular patch jobs to keep the Alteration from failing during a mission or just while training, so having to get another check-up before their next set of missions meant he had used more Storm Flames than usual or the condition had become noticeably worse; a bit of both seemed likely which wasn't exactly good news.

Maria-Chiara nodded, reassured that Pýř wasn't going to murder anyone that walked in and then left, potentially to spread that message to the medical people and the information about Alterations to eyes as it appeared that Maria-Chiara had no idea about that even existing. Now that she was gone he could focus on Erica instead of making sure his partner didn't get put down in a Rain-Flame induced nap which was a good thing because Erica seemed to squeezing her younger brother's hand hard.

"For what purpose would you Alter hair? Couldn't that just be done with illusions instead?" Ruggero asked; it was a fairly typical question. He could focus on that instead of Erica's pain.

"For practice it's fine to use illusions like that but not in the field or elsewhere unless absolutely necessary as a last resort deal, for the Varia anyway. Anyone with the slightest bit of sensitivity to Flames will notice them being used, even if they can't see through them. Accounting for changes in lighting, how hair moves, highlights, wrinkles in clothing, texture, fashion and more is doable for one or two people but it's exhausting and constant detail work that has to be perfect in colour and timing or it looks fake or just off somehow and that's more memorable than people think. They won't know why it looks strange, just that it does which puts people on edge. Using illusions like that generally means they've barely had any training or are self-taught in a civilian environment because doing that around people with the capability of sensing Flames is just a waste of energy for any stealth purposes. There're ways around that but it depends on how they're holding the illusion and some people are better at it than others."

"And Altered hair doesn't create that issue?"

"It takes actual knowledge and an initial investment in Flame but low-level Alterations are child's play. You can even play with the pigment and structural protein more easily there since you don't have to be as careful because you're not risking someone's sight by potentially burning out nerves or anything. The worst consequence is potentially losing hair if a Mist tries for a higher-level than they've got the knowledge or ability for. A higher-level Alteration means it grows out that colour, so it looks completely natural no matter the colour and you get all the natural highlight and lowlights. A lower-level Alteration can change hair colour without getting the damage and mess of a dye-job and it grows out like a dye-job, which means you can have fun with colours and stuff. Actually you can even make it curly or straight too, although I don't usually bother with any of that for myself. As someone has already pointed out today, I'm pretty enough without it."

"Are you –ah! – saying that Mist Flames are the Flames for perfect hair?" Erica asked.

"Er, yes?" He admitted cautiously. Low level Alteration wasn't that hard, even for those who don't specialise in it, so any Mist that couldn't do it either didn't realise they could do it or were terrible at being Mists due to lack of knowledge or imagination. Most Mists didn't specialise in Alteration within the Varia; most worked with Curses, physical illusions and Enchantments to kill because Alteration required a broad understanding on many subjects with an intense amount of specialised knowledge on what particular detail was going to be Altered.

Curses were 'easy' because they were meant to cause harm or kill, so no real degree of care really had to be taken for _how_ it worked; just that it did based on how the Mist thought it _should_ work. Therefore if a Mist cursed someone impotent like Mab had threatened him months ago... well, the person cursed either couldn't get it up or was rendered sterile or both until the curse was removed. Given that Mab was highly-proficient with Curses, if no longer as Curse-happy as she used to be, that wouldn't be the only issue inflicted; just the most noticeable one.

It was _understanding_ the hows and whys that made the difference between something subtle and something obvious; most Curses were obvious. Barring the guy Maínomai more or less mutilated with his mind –also how he earned his name because that target made him too angry to even think clearly enough to focus on what one specific thing he wanted to happen so he didn't even resemble a normal corpse afterwards– most of Maínomai's Varia career kills had been 'accidents' with the occasional 'inexplicable natural death.' A Curse to someone's heart might give them a heart murmur but an Alteration to the aorta would cause them to bleed to death internally without ever touching them. Any Alterations to someone's biology had the potential to be fatal if the Mist didn't have the specialised knowledge to do it safely. Maínomai knew enough to kill with that knowledge and never wanted to be responsible for using Alterations for someone's health: it was far too possible to forget to factor in something, which was why he had never considered it an option to do post-Varia.

"If you were a woman, I really would utterly despise you."

"I feel that I've missed an important part of this conversation." Ruggero added.

"She remarked on the fact that I've been mistaken for a Lanza, and I'm very pretty. The perfect hair thing was a bit much." The Mist summarised. Looking at the tight grip Erica had on Ruggero's hand he frowned at the pain she was in again. "Do you want me to go fetch someone to see about dilation or a doctor since it probably shouldn't be long now, Erica?"

"That's unnecessary," the doctor –she had a white coat– said, entering the room. A brief examination later, had the doctor proclaiming that Erica was ready to push.

* * *

Pýř wasn't exactly sure why his partner and Erica had named their child Serena. A brief check allowed him to determine that Serena was a Sun with slightly weaker Mist Flames, for all that being just born meant that they weren't active and were barely noticeable. He couldn't say anything about her reserves, but he suspected that she would be one of those children who activated their Flames young and without life-threatening danger.

As she wasn't a Sky, Serena had the Lanza name as her surname instead of Maínomai's last name or 'Vongola'; Maínomai's last name didn't have the reputation that the Lanza did and names within the mafia were almost as important as bloodlines. Plus using his partner's last name could potentially draw attention to his civilian relatives and would make it more obvious that Serena had a foreign father. That she wasn't a Sky was a good thing as it would allow the recently born Serena to not get caught up in the politics of the eventual succession of the Vongola; well, if Nono ever retired before he died that was.

Speaking of Don Vongola, he did peek into the room after the baby girl had been born to see his newborn great-grandchild and grandchildren, since Ruggero was still around and a few more Lanzas –who did indeed look a bit like his partner– who had been waiting outside had also come to admire their new cousin. It was a brief visit and Pýř wasn't sure if the elderly Don had visited specifically because he wanted to or if he had an appointment at Medical this morning anyway. The latter was more or less implied when his Sun Guardian ushered him out because 'he has an appointment', not 'he has business to attend to'.

Pýř wasn't exactly impressed by the brief visit and his partner had reached the point of exhaustion best known as 'too tired to care' and had been leaning on Ruggero, so he was certain that Maínomai had been mistaken for a Lanza again. That was useful, but they'd have to do something about it; it was a handy lie for them but it could get them in trouble in the future so that would need to be sorted out. It would be one thing if his partner and Erica married and he took the Lanza name but despite the evidence of them being quite intimate at one point in time having just been born, people somehow believed they were related and not former lovers.

However if he didn't get any sleep before noon then he probably would murder someone or just crash. His partner looked to be moments away from falling asleep as it was and noon was still hours away.

"Here, hold Serena for me please Pýř?"

Pýř was only vaguely aware of the low-voiced argument going on between the doctor and Erica because he was focused on cradling the red-faced and astonishingly light newborn without dropping it. Her. Serena was a 'her' not an 'it'. He was also battling the contradiction of wanting his hands free so he could defend the baby if necessary –he had to be really tired for his instincts to be this close to the surface– and not wanting to let go of the fragile infant. He compromised by tucking the bundle of blankets with the red, crinkly face poking out into the crook of his elbow, so he did have one hand free.

Maínomai wandered across the room and leaned his head on Pýř's shoulder, eyes fixed on his daughter and a soft, bewildered expression on his face.

"Right." Pýř blinked at Erica, who was standing up and wearing a thick padded dressing gown that covered her from neck to ankle, the sleeves obscuring her hands and making her look like a little girl playing dress-up. The tired-looking blonde gave Pýř a light push. "Come on; we're going to my suite. It may be time for breakfast but I'd rather have a nap."

"Miss Lanza, you really should–" the doctor started reprovingly, interrupted by Erica's firm rebuttal:

"No. I don't feel comfortable sleeping in here. My suite is much more secure and Doctor Edoni can stop by and check on me later." Erica gave Pýř another subtle shove, which he interpreted as his cue to assist in the escape so agreeably got moving. He personally would much rather crash on the sofa in Erica's suite than in Vongola Medical; the suite had _much_ better security.

With Erica steering him and Maínomai trailing slightly behind to keep an eye out for threats, it only took ten minutes to get to Erica's suite, where they were greeted by a very energetic Amadeo wanting to see his new baby sister. Pýř handed over the newborn to Erica and set his sights on the sofa, but she grabbed his arm before he could take more than a step.

"What." He grumbled.

"The door on the left leads to the kitchen; my bedroom is just past that. The bed's big enough for three and much more comfortable than the sofa," Erica said in German. He hadn't known Erica spoke German; he probably should have considered the possibility though. She likely knew all of the Vongola Six, considering where she worked.

"Where's Mai-mai?" Maínomai asked, looking around blearily.

"Grandma's looking after him," Amadeo said, looking up from baby Serena. "Can we have breakfast, Mamma?"

"I'm too tired right now darling; how about you go join your Uncle Ruggero and have breakfast with him, hm?" Erica said with a small smile.

"Ruggero's here? Cool!" Amadeo said brightly, before turning around and fixing his mother with a very cute frown. "Make sure you rest, Mamma; I don't like it when you're unwell."

"I promise, sweetheart; I don't like it either," Erica said. "Off you go now."

Amadeo left; Pýř dragged his now almost sleep-walking partner after Erica as she headed to the back of the sitting room and through the left-hand door, through a small but well-appointed kitchen and into a bedroom easily as large as the sitting room at the entrance to the suite. The bed was indeed massive, wide and low with a canopy hanging from the ceiling and gauzy sea-green curtains pulled back from the sides; there were no blankets on it, just crisp new sheets. Maínomai instantly pulled off his boots, dumped his coat on the chest at the end of the bed and collapsed face-down on the mattress. Pýř glanced at Erica, who was gently setting down Serena in a wooden crib on the far side of the bed from the door they'd just come through, then removed his own boots and coat and shoved his partner over so he could get on the mattress too.

It was a very good-quality mattress, the sheets were smooth and the pillows were fantastic; Pýř could feel his exhaustion rising like a tidal wave to engulf him. He fought to keep his eyes open for a few seconds longer though, just long enough to see Erica remove a few blankets from under the bed and help her drape them over them.

He felt rather than saw her climb up onto the bed on Maínomai's other side and then he was out like a light.

* * *

Maínomai tended to wake up all at once, unlike Pýř who needed an hour to really get himself fully into the waking world and fit for company, polite or otherwise. However when Maínomai was tired or jetlagged he was really, really difficult to wake up, which Pýř had complained about on multiple occasions. Maínomai had never had those kinds of problems with his partner though; no matter how tired he was, Pýř was easily disturbed and inclined to throw knives at people who tried to make him get up before he was ready.

Opening his eyes to a room that _definitely_ wasn't his or Pýř's when he knew they weren't on a mission therefore gave Maínomai a bit of an adrenaline rush, although he did calm down upon realising that Pýř was crashed out next to him and they were both fully dressed. Then Maínomai remembered Erica giving birth; that had clearly been real and not just a particularly vivid dream. Levering himself into a sitting position, the Mist looked around the bedroom with interest; he'd never seen it before. He'd known it was there –he'd eaten in Erica's kitchen a few times and she'd told him– but as they were no longer lovers he'd had no real reason to see her bedroom beyond curiosity and hadn't been all that bothered anyway. He'd seen her room in the apartment she usually lived in and that was 'her' room to his mind, not this one.

It was a pretty room though, with a dark parquet floor and walls painted in a very pale minty colour that was almost but not quite white with panels of more intense blue-green. The gauzy canopy over the bed and the curtains that could be pulled around it were a restful shade of sea-green that matched the wall panels and most of the room's other soft furnishings. If the sitting room was a 'pink' room, this was definitely a 'green' room.

Pýř was still sleeping and Erica was probably somewhere in the suite with the baby, so Maínomai climbed carefully out of bed without disturbing his partner and padded out of the door. He was hungry; despite it probably being mid-afternoon, being jetlagged meant it felt like brunch time to him.

It turned out to actually be lunch-time, if a late lunchtime of half-past one; Erica was making pasta sauce from scratch and had a colander full of fresh home-made linguine to one side of the stove so it could be cooked once the sauce was ready. There was a Moses basket on one of the kitchen chairs, with his hours-old daughter fast asleep inside it. Serena still looked very pink and crinkly, but Maínomai was utterly entranced by how tiny and perfect she was. He crouched down next to the chair so he could get a closer look, avidly taking in the faint sound of her breathing, the faint twitches of her eyelids and fingers and the incredibly fine pale fringe curling along the top of her forehead.

He had a _daughter_. This was _his_ daughter. His itty-bitty scrap of sunshine.

Sitting down on the floor was probably a good idea.

Sat on the floor with his legs splayed out, head leaning against the chair so he could still see his baby girl, Maínomai took a moment to breathe deeply and send up a grateful prayer that his Family Curse had been noticed and broken before Serena could inherit it. The idea of this tiny, fragile and dependent little person being afflicted with even a tenth of the suffering he'd gone through as a child made Maínomai want to kill somebody; possibly a whole town full of somebodies, if it would have made a difference.

He was also grateful that Varia Medical had taken Dr Moreau's diagnosis of 'permanent scarring' as a challenge; it had taken four months but in July Maínomai had been summoned to Medical to be looked over by Vahn, who was technically a member of Information but had volunteered to partner with Medical for the 'Non-Flame-Related Curses Project'. Vahn had, after a few flubs and near-accidents, managed to find the right 'frequency' to see what it was Dr Moreau had been able to see and had done a few very interesting colour sketches of how various people looked to what he had decided to call 'Aura Sight'.

Vahn had defended this rather dubious naming choice by stating that what he was seeing wasn't thoughts or emotions or even Flames; it was some undefined type of energy that was anchored in living things and responded faintly to emotions. Most of the Varia barely had any, just enough to create a more-or-less monochrome underlay to their skin, but about a handful were brighter and more kaleidoscopic, their Aura sliding around and shifting colours while particularly strongly concentrated around the eyes and hands, with occasional faint leakage into the surrounding environment. Medical had not yet been able to determine any particular rhyme or reason to why some people were brighter than others, as nothing matched in their respective backgrounds and medical history; they were just different and Bel was one of the brightest the Varia had.

Maínomai was one of the Varia's more brightly coloured people, but Vahn's initial reaction to him had been pretty bad: the Algerian Mist had gone pale and dashed off to throw up, which said something in itself as it took a lot to make a Varia Quality Mist do that. He'd come back very promptly and apologised, face still noticeably greyish, and explained that Dr Moreau had been right: Maínomai's Curse Damage was _extremely_ unsubtle. Vahn's colour sketch had made Maínomai feel pretty queasy himself: fading grey circles like scars from having holes punched in him which were edged in putrid greens and yellows peppered his hands, tongue and head; matching larger marks marred his chest and back right over his heart; and the faint, ghostly shadow of a black-red ring hovered around his neck, more a mark of what might have been than an indication of what was still there.

Vahn being able to _see_ what was wrong with Maínomai had been the first step; the next step had been Vahn and Cordial, the Sun in Medical who specialised in healing non-physical Curse damage, working together so that Cordial could both see and affect Maínomai's Aura in order to heal it. It had taken _weeks_ of daily trips to Medical, a whole lot of weird moods and swings between hyperactive restlessness and utter exhaustion, but according to Vahn the Curse Scars on his Aura were fading to transparency and the sickly colours around them were entirely gone. His aura would probably always have those 'empty' spots, but better those clean little voids than the ugly discolorations that had been there before; Cordial had even manage to exorcise the last fading shadow of the necklace from around Maínomai's neck.

The most obvious result of his 'Aura Healing' was that his kleptomania had markedly reduced; he still pocketed things without noticing, but generally only when irritated or thinking hard rather than more-or-less constantly. Pýř had noticed that he tended to be less impulsive and had said so; Maínomai was glad of it as his whims had made necessary a good number of last-minute scrambles on missions in the past. Never anything _serious_ , but they'd certainly been inconvenient and rather embarrassing for him in retrospect.

"Lunch will be in two minutes," Erica said, turning to catch his eye.

"I'll go wash my hands," Maínomai agreed, getting to his feet and heading for the bathroom on the other side of the main living room.

Pýř, somewhat surprisingly, did actually stagger out of the bedroom just as Erica was serving the pasta, although he stumbled off again as soon as his bowl was cleared, mumbling something incomprehensible. Erica just shook her head with a smile when Maínomai apologised for his partner's rudeness, informing him slyly that her Grandfather the Don Nono was incapable of stringing a coherent sentence together before his morning coffee.

The idea of Nono stumbling around a kitchen in fancy pyjamas and scowling at the coffee percolator as his Guardians hovered was so hilarious Maínomai nearly fell off his chair laughing. He was still sniggering occasionally as he helped Erica was the dishes, but manage to pull himself together enough to take over completely without dropping anything when Serena woke up and wailed. Erica disentangled herself from the rubber gloves and apron with remarkable quickness, lifting the tiny girl out of the basket and sitting down to breastfeed.

Maínomai was of the opinion that his friend had never been prettier than she was at that moment, smiling lovingly at their baby daughter. Never mind the soapsuds, untidy hair and rather unflattering house clothing she was wearing.

* * *

Erica was crocheting a striped couch blanket for Xanxus birthday –she didn't care that this was the fifth year running she was getting him a seventeenth birthday present– and keeping a watchful eye on both Mai-mai and Amadeo when there was a knock on the door of her suite. Carefully setting aside the Flame-resistant yarn, Erica glanced over to Serena –still sleeping– than went to open the door. The protections on her suite were such that the door being open did not actually make it any easier to get inside; it was only possible for people other than her, Amadeo and Mai-mai to enter if they were invited and Erica had issued very few blanket invitations.

It was Federico, accompanied by Antony, Othello and Hamlet. Lear was probably spending time with his wife and sons, Macbeth had probably gone looking for Banshee to bribe her into forgiving him for vanishing for over a week and Romeo was probably downstairs flirting with somebody. While not as bad as most Lightnings, Romeo had rather unwisely made Federico his role-model and so was a shameless flirt. He hadn't yet progressed into being a shameless womaniser but Erica suspected it was only a matter of time.

"Can we come in, please?" Federico asked.

"I don't know, you look a bit suspicious to me," Erica joked.

"We come bearing gifts!" Federico said, gesturing to the stack of tissue-wrapped boxes Antony was carrying.

"Well, I suppose I can let you in today then," Erica said, stepping back as the defences responded to her decision and allowed her uncle and his Guardians inside.

Clearly her uncle still remembered the lessons learnt back when Amadeo had been a newborn, because he kept his voice low and conversational while congratulating Erica on the birth of her daughter and handing over the largest of the wrapped presents to Amadeo; Federico might have been the youngest of her uncles until Xanxus came along but he certainly understood the importance of making sure that the older siblings did not feel they were getting less attention than the younger ones.

Amadeo was delighted by the big Lego set and was soon sat across the room telling Antony how to build it for him, enabling Federico to start a conversation with Erica.

"So, Serena Lanza?" Her uncle asked.

"Maínomai and I decided it would be best," Erica agreed mildly, smiling at her uncle as she picked up her crochet again, running her fingers along the specially treated yarn; it would be the height of foolishness to make anything for Xanxus that wasn't moderately Flame-proof.

"So he helped pick the name out?"

Erica nodded, calmly working along the slight zigzag pattern in black, orange and red she had finally decided upon. "He came over at once when I went into labour, despite having only returned from a mission a few hours previously, and stayed until well into the evening." She did not mention that he had spent half the day crashed out on her bed; that was none of Federico's business.

"So attentive… are you sure you don't want to marry him, niece of mine? We could still organise a shotgun wedding, no problem," Federico suggested.

Erica snorted. "Maínomai is Family and I don't love him like that; besides, you're one to talk, Mr My-Latest-Conquest-Could-Have-Been-My-Daughter!"

Federico winced as Hamlet sniggered and Othello's eyes sparkled with mirth. "It wasn't like that, Erica!"

"I hear _all_ kinds of things, uncle, including that Donna Riccio was one of your early conquests," Erica said dryly. "That Beatrice Riccio is _my_ age and was born about the right time to have resulted from your affair with her mother? It does not look good, uncle."

"It sounds so bad when you put it like that," Federico whined, pouting at her. "Nobody ever talks about the fact that all these women are throwing themselves at _me_ rather than me throwing myself at _them_!"

"Well of course they are: they all want to be Donna Vongola," Erica pointed out. "They also know that you've never turned a woman under the age of fifty down in your life, so they all feel like they've got a chance."

"I told you that you should be picker," Hamlet said to her Sky, waggling a finger at him, "but no, you never listen to me do you? Do you have any idea how many hitwomen from enemy Families I've had to inconvenience since you were made Heir? Or how many prettied-up daughters of enemy Dons I've deflected so they wouldn't get an opportunity to hold an unborn Vongola hostage?"

Federico winced again. "Yes, I _do_ know because you tell me every time a new one pops up," the Heir Vongola said grumpily, fiddling with his ring. "It's hardly my fault I haven't found the right woman yet."

"The so-called 'right woman' will probably go out of her way to avoid you due to your playboy reputation," Erica said crushingly, switching colours for the next section of the blanket. "Even if you _do_ find her, you'll probably spend the next ten years persuading her to take you seriously."

"Ow, that hurts you know," Federico said plaintively, clutching at his heart. "My niece is so cruel to me! Guardians, defend me!"

"Truth hurts," Othello rumbled blandly.

"You deserve it," Hamlet agreed.

"Traitors," Federico muttered before changing the subject. "So, who have you decided upon as godparents?"

Erica smiled. "Well, Maínomai has selected two of his colleagues, so I decided to go for social role-models rather than personally powerful ones. Pantera Superbi has agreed to be godfather and my cousin Olivia will be godmother." She had wanted to offer the godfather position to Squalo, but she hadn't 'officially' heard from him since he left school, so she had compromised by offering the honour to the Superbi Heir who was something of a respected Family colleague if not quite a close friend.

"Olivia Lanza? That's your Uncle Umberto's… second daughter, right?" Federico asked. Umberto Lanza was the patriarch of a very _large_ family, with five children by his first wife and a further seven by his second one, who was currently pregnant. He also had two illegitimate children born prior to his marriage that he had taken in and a further four who had been conceived between his first marriage and his second one. Erica also knew he had a mistress with three children, but that was not official so did not 'count'.

"Third daughter," Erica corrected him; Olivia had a recognised illegitimate older sister as well as a legitimate one.

"I can never remember," Federico muttered, rubbing his head sheepishly. "Olivia's the skinny brunette who went into Personnel, right? Does all that diplomatic stuff?"

"Olivia is indeed responsible for informing the families of our lower-ranking Mafiosi about grants available for their children, work placements and offering bereavement counselling for widows and orphans," Erica conceded, actually impressed he'd remembered that. It wasn't as though somebody like Federico ever saw somebody like Olivia except in passing, although he might see her name on paperwork on occasion.

"Wasn't she one of Nono's candidates to be Xanxus' Lightning Guardian?"

Ah, so _that_ was why Federico had heard of Olivia; that made much more sense. "Probably," Erica admitted, "but if so Olivia would have refused to be entered in Guardian Training and Uncle Umberto will have backed her up. Olivia hates violence." Olivia was a latent Lightning and had not the slightest interest in learning to use her Flames.

"Which is why she's in Personnel making life better for the foot soldiers," Federico finished. "Makes sense; thanks for clearing that up for me."

"You're welcome, uncle." Erica said easily. "Will you and your Guardians be staying for lunch?"

"I'd love to Erica," Federico said ruefully, "but I want to have another crack at Nono; we really _need_ Xanxus back in the field. For all his faults my bratty baby brother was always utterly loyal to the Family and he was damn good at spotting things the rest of us missed."

"Good luck," Erica said sincerely, getting up to hug and kiss her guests goodbye; her uncle would need all the luck he could get.

* * *

Maínomai and Pýř did make it back in time for the half-yearly auction held within the Varia, if only by a technicality; they had missed the first half of the auction by the time they got through the front doors and spent the second half sleeping off mission fatigue. The next day Maínomai spent with Pýř; the appointment at medical soon after his daughter was born had Pýř's condition proclaimed 'good enough' to work for the next set of missions provided they were going to limit themselves to daylight operations, because it would fail entirely soon enough. The frequency of the Cloud's eye-checks for the Alteration was also being increased to every two months instead of the three months as they had been.

Most of the people with eye Alterations only needed the yearly check and adjust; it was just those with Storm Flames that needed regular patch-ups and renewals due to the fact that as they channelled their Flames, those same Flames ate at the Alteration which was cobweb delicate. Most Storms with eye problems either had surgery or went with glasses instead of subjecting themselves to a monthly visit to Medical; those who _needed_ eye Alterations in order to maintain Quality either went grudgingly or found ways to not have to use their Storm Flames on missions unless it was absolutely necessary. All total, there were a few Storms, maybe three, and a further nineteen more assassins that had secondary Storm Flames with eye conditions that required a creative fix.

While the castle was well lit in a lot of areas, there was no reason to inflict his grumpy and all too willing to be mean –even by Varia standards– friend on anyone until his eyes were fixed. So Maínomai left his room, retrieved breakfast for them both –a late one since it was nearly eleven in the morning– and entered his friend's room with the tray. That Pýř was awake and probably had been for some time, yet hadn't gone to get something to eat, said a lot about his mood and none of it good.

Then Maínomai escorted Pýř over to medical after grabbing what looked like his latest knitting project, because that would help keep the Cloud calm through all the tests and the seemingly endearing but actually insulting nicknames the eye specialist had for his patients; no one that knew German well liked being called 'sausage' after all. Three hours later the Alteration was in, the eye-colour adjusted to something a little lighter that before and Pýř had the news that he would eventually go entirely blind within an estimated two decades; three if it progressed slower that it was currently. The Alteration meant he would still be able see after that for as long as the delicate construct lasted, but once it was gone he'd be blind until it was restored.

Not good news, but nothing they hadn't known before; Pýř had been working on various sensing techniques for everything over the years for a reason. As Pýř could now see they could go visit Erica and not have to stay overnight because Pýř preferred to drive and being a Mist, Maínomai didn't have the reflexes for driving a vehicle modified for hyper-responsiveness. Not that they would have minded crashing over at the Vongola Mansion for the night, but it would set tongues wagging in ways that would not be for the best, even with most of Housekeeping assuming he was Erica's cousin rather than her ex. Maínomai then called Erica to tell her they were back and ask if they could see her and Serena tomorrow, so they could have the whole day together then as they had reports to fill out and file today and needed to get some more sleep so his friend wasn't scaring everyone out of grumpiness.

Thus the next day saw the both of them over early enough to join in breakfast with Erica, Amadeo, Serena and Mai-mai. Serena had somehow gotten even more precious since he had last seen her; maybe because she wasn't red anymore? Amadeo showed off his new Lego set and his creations with it to Pýř, as this set had new Lego people to play with and Amadeo wanted to tell Pýř about his ninjas and their alliance with the wolf-bandits against the knights who had enslaved the dragons. Maínomai therefore turned to focus on Erica and Serena.

Erica didn't seem to be too tired despite being a mother to a newborn, because according to her Serena was better than Amadeo about sleeping between feedings and was quieter than Amadeo had been, so far. Erica admitted that she expected their daughter to make up for the 'good behaviour' later when she hit those toddling years or maybe when Serena became a teenager; that was an odd thing to think about.

Holding his daughter in his arms and imagining her already grown or nearly so felt really odd, as she was currently less than a month old and weighed less than five kilograms. He didn't even know who she really took after in looks –her bone structure wouldn't be apparent for a few more years– as her eyes were baby blue still and her hair was fine enough that he suspected his daughter might be blonde like her mother, but his brother had been born blond and it darkened over time. Not as dark as Maínomai's own hair, but still darker than Erica's hair was. "Do you know who she takes after yet?" He asked, holding out a finger for his daughter to grip with her entire hand.

"She's not nearly as, what was the word Pýř used, high-strung as you, or at least I don't think so. She's very easy-going so far when she's awake and not hungry; very easily pleased and likes to smile. Unless she needs changing, which makes her fussy, of course."

"Being wet and miserable would make anyone fussy." Maínomai agreed, before switching languages as an idea occurred to him. "Just as much as being confined to one place would eventually, even if that one place is as huge as the Housekeeping Wing and such. So Pýř and I really ought to show you the house we got for all of us. It's been done since August so it'd need a leetle bit of dusting and groceries before we could have a little party to celebrate. Mab certainly needs to meet her god-daughter, so Fuseau too. Maybe even invite Wanhope, although that would mean leaving the kids here as I'm not sure about his aura's effects on children. I'm just thinking really as Kuchisake and Mab have already seen the place and I don't think you have, even though we got your input about your room and the nursery."

"A little welcome party for everybody then, to celebrate the end of one phase and the beginning of the next?"

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"I like it. Even Serena likes it too. See! She's got your smile."

Looking down at Serena's gummy grin and happily crinkled eyes, Maínomai knew he'd do anything to keep his baby daughter smiling like that.

* * *

Maínomai had already decided that the party at the house was going to be small and low-key, with no alcohol because Erica couldn't drink it at the moment and getting tipsy around Wanhope was a really stupid move. Not that Maínomai drunk very much even at parties; he didn't like what it did to his control. Mab seemed utterly immune to the depressive effects of alcohol and drank specific brands of liqueur purely for the taste and Fuseau always looked at people offering him anything other than chocolate liqueur as though they were expecting him to eat a dead rat.

Mists had to be picky about alcohol because of the incredibly varied but invariably unpleasant effects that being drunk had on their Flames. There were even Vongola Laws against non-Vongola offering anything alcoholic to Mists. Nobody had ever offered alcohol to Wanhope that Maínomai was aware of, but if anybody ever had Fuseau had probably long since murdered them and disposed of the body. The very idea of a drunk Puppeteer was Nightmare Fuel.

Of course, in the absence of alcohol serving drinks at a party was a bit tricky, but there wasn't really any shortage of options even if you cut out hot drinks like tea and drinking chocolate. Various fruit juices from concentrate, fizzy drinks, the yummy ice-cream milkshakes that Italians called 'frappé' and, of course, still or sparkling water. Maínomai personally liked elderflower cordial, as it had been a special treat from his childhood: elderberry bushes grew on abandoned building sites and in even the tiniest of back gardens, so his mother and aunt had always managed to get their hands on enough of the massive flower clusters to produce a few bottles of home-made cordial, which would then be stretched to last over the summer months and into early autumn.

Italian shops didn't stock _any_ kind of elderflower cordial, not even cheap synthetic versions –blasphemy! – so Maínomai had to pay for Housekeeping to import it from Germany and tried to buy it whenever they were in a country that stocked it in shops. This had led to an exasperated Pýř hunting him down in corner shops and little old ladies' homes on various occasions, as while Maínomai was perfectly happy to buy factory-produced elderflower cordial, what he really craved was the home-made stuff and over the years he'd charmed a good number of really nice elderly women into giving him a few bottles of their own recipe and two of them still shipped him a few bottles every summer; they sent jams and pickles in the autumn too.

Maínomai made sure to always write thank-you cards to those ladies, because they had to be very lonely to do that for a near-total stranger. He wrote them Christmas cards too, although he'd never yet managed to get his cards written _before_ Christmas… maybe this year?

He was about to go and get the drinks out when he remembered that things like dusting, hoovering and mopping had to be done _first_ , so he turned around and went back to the washroom by the front door, which had a cupboard full of cleaning equipment alongside the washing machine and tumble drier. Dusting first, then hoovering, then mopping; Maínomai pouted. This was going to take _ages_ …

Pýř, the sneaky meanie, didn't show up back at the house until _after_ Maínomai had all but finished the cleaning. He did have a veritable feast of savoury snack foods and several boxes of patisserie goodies in addition to two good-sized cartons of ice-cream though, so Maínomai let it slide. Just this once. He did leave Pýř to organise the food by himself though, because he wanted to call Erica and see if she would be bringing Serena or not. His friend had admitted that she probably would bring their daughter along, as Serena needed feeding every three hours so it would be irresponsible of her not to. Amadeo however would definitely not be coming and Erica had mentioned arranging a sleepover with cousins to make sure of it.

His friend's mobile rang for a few seconds before she picked up. " _Pronto?_ "

"Hi Erica!" Maínomai said cheerily in English. "All the dust-bunnies have been slain by yours truly, the floors are mopped and Pýř has arrived with food so just let me know when you want to come over and I'll send Pýř to get you!"

"Using your friend as a chauffeur?" Erica asked in the same language. "That's hardly considerate, Maínomai!"

"Well then he shouldn't have deliberately stayed away until I finished the cleaning and have picked out a car that _didn't_ have modified steering," The Mist grouched poutily. "He brought it upon himself!"

The soft chuckling down the phone was music to Maínomai's ears. "Ah, well in that case he should have seen it coming," his friend agreed. "Amadeo's having a sleepover with some of my cousins and Federico has promised to look after Mai-mai for me until Serena's a bit older. Juggling an infant and a nursery-age child is one thing, adding a dog to that is just too much, even a dog as low-maintenance as Mai-mai."

"Are you free now then?"

"Not quite; I'm sorting out something Lal Mirch requested I deal with personally," Erica said elliptically. "I don't think it will take more than another hour though."

"I'll send Pýř over to fetch you in forty-five minutes then," Maínomai said chirpily. "Love you!"

"Love you too; see you soon," Erica replied before hanging up. Maínomai hummed happily to himself, then set off down the stairs to inform his partner he'd been volunteered. Oh, and he also needed to ask when Mab and Fuseau were going to show up and if Wanhope was coming, all of which was important to know.

* * *

Erica sighed as she went over her shorthand notes and pulled out various sheets of paper from the folder delivered to her by one of Lal's minions; it looked like they had rats again. Really it just so frustrating the way the CEDEF was about as secure as a sieve; that Iemitsu casually thwarted all their attempts to improve security did not help. What made it all worse was that most Flame-Active Mafiosi found Iemitsu's Flame-presence oppressive and stressful, so they either did their best to transfer out of the CEDEF or shut down to such an extent that they wouldn't notice an infiltrator dancing on the desks right in front of them!

Of course Iemitsu's suffocating presence did mean that no Flame-Active spy had ever managed to keep their cover intact for more than a fortnight before they gave themselves away to one member of staff or other, but that was a very minor and heavily tarnished silver lining. Most of the infiltrating parties had worked out by now that there was something about the CEDEF that was inimical to the vast majority of Flame-users, so they sent Latent spies instead.

This particular one was copying information and sending it back to their Famiglia; more insider trading than espionage, but still forbidden by the terms of the CEDEF contract. She would have to arrange an unpleasant but non-fatal accident for him, obtain details of everything he'd ever had access to then report the entire matter to Iemitsu, who would then either deal with it personally or take it to Nono. Probably the former; Iemitsu might be crap at management but he was actually very good at thinking on his feet in the field, which visiting an allied Famiglia to reprimand them for undermining CEDEF activities counted as. The spineless fool guilty of breaking his contract would also get fired and have this put in their record, so he unlikely to get employed by anybody in the wider Vongola ever again; nobody would hire an analyst who couldn't keep things confidential. A shame that he'd ruined his career chances four months into his first job, but some people were thoughtless morons like that.

" _Signorina_ Lanza?" Erica looked up at the footman who had just opened the door to the office she had borrowed. "Your cousin's colleague is waiting for you by the garages."

Erica guessed that by 'cousin' the footman meant Maínomai, who wasn't related to her at all despite his rather uncanny resemblance to her cousin Andrea, Olivia's older half-brother. "Tell him I will be a while longer; please offer him a drink," she said, reckoning that would buy her about ten minutes. That would be enough to write a few lines, put the file back together and seal it to be delivered back to Lal. Serena was asleep in her basket on the window seat and Erica had everything she might need in a bag beside the desk, so she didn't need to go back to her suite for anything.

It actually took Erica a bit over a quarter of an hour to finish up, but that was due to having to change Serena. That done and the folder packaged up, she handed it off to the CEDEF operative loitering around in the kitchen who had brought it to her in the first place before stepping outside, where Pýř was slouched on a bench and sipping a hot chocolate.

"Ready to go?" The Cloud asked in German, eyeing the basket containing her daughter and the smart coat Erica was wearing.

"When you are," Erica confirmed, not bothering to explain how a person could use Rain Flames to protect them from the cold; it was an obvious manipulation of the laws of physics after all, creating an insulating barrier of denser air around her that prevented heat loss.

The blue-haired Varia downed the remains of his hot chocolate, set the mug down on the bench then stood up and offered her an arm, which Erica took, before leading the way across the drive to where he'd parked the car.

"Maínomai called; the others have already arrived," he said as he opened the back door so she could strap the basket down securely before settling in the front passenger seat. Normally doing so would not be safe, but the Tranquillity factor of Rain Flames meant that a person capable of using them had considerably more options in the matter of car safety; Serena would not be sliding about at all.

"I look forward to seeing Fuseau and Wanhope again," Erica said as Pýř started the car and drove off in the nerve-racking manner all Clouds seemed to share.

"Not Mab?" Pýř asked dryly, glancing at her as he pulled out onto the road, narrowly avoiding getting sandwiched between a small truck and another car.

Erica smiled. "Mab has been visiting since Serena was born; she said it was her godmotherly duty."

"Ah."

There was no more conversation as Pýř drove them to the house he and Maínomai had built so they could safely spend time with Serena, but Erica didn't mind the quiet.

* * *

The living room had a good view of the road, so Maínomai easily spotted the car coming up it and hurried downstairs so he could greet Erica and say hello to his daughter again.

"Hi Erica! Is everything okay? How's Serena? Is she okay? Fuseau and Mab helped me put up a large-scale Alteration over the house to damped down Wanhope's area effect but I'm not sure how effective it is for a Flame-Latent as none of us are and Serena's a baby so things might still be different for her–"

Erica reached up and pressed a finger to his lips, her eyes sparkling slightly. Maínomai shut up.

"Hi Maínomai; everything's fine; I was just sorting something out for Lal. Serena's fine, I think she's sleeping right now and I can't feel Wanhope at all, so it should be okay. Even if it isn't I'm sure we'll manage just fine; we're all capable adults after all."

That was really nice of her to say and actually _mean_ ; lots of Varia treated Maínomai like a feckless teenager. The ones who did so in a kind manner had been allowed to go on doing so, but the mean ones had all learned that Pýř did _not_ appreciate them treating his partner like that. Sometimes they'd even survived the lesson. Maínomai's impulsiveness had been the cause of that treatment for the most part, but as that had been getting better lately due to Cordial's 'Aura healing' he was making an effort to actually curb that sort of behaviour, now that he actually _could_. Anyone that still insisted on being mean out of sight of his friend, well, while he _personally_ wasn't allowed to Curse anyone that just meant he had to be creative about his revenge. If 'creative' included an extensive series of Alterations that reinforced each other and tangled together in such a way that the Mists in Medical refused to treat the issue until they knew absolutely _everything_ about it because doing otherwise could 'trigger' another set of cascading Alterations and while the condition of the sufferer was humiliating it wasn't fatal... well, Maínomai had something of a reputation for giving Medical's Mists headaches because of it, but better that than whoever ending up murdered or maimed, right?

"So, show me the house," Erica went on as Pýř lifted the baby basket out of the back of the car, lowering her hand from his mouth. Maínomai caught the hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, bowing extravagantly.

"Of course, lovely lady! This way!"

Erica's laughter as he dragged her inside was music to his ears.

An hour later they were all sitting in the living room, Fuseau chatting to Erica about his latest weaving project while Mab, Pýř and Maínomai watched in fascination as Wanhope solemnly and silently played peek-a-boo with Serena, making the baby wave her arms and giggle at the usually granite-faced Mist.

Maínomai caught his partner's eye as Serena squealed loudly and signed a suspicion that somebody had stuck them in a Territory. Pýř signed back acknowledgement of the possibility and Mab promptly wacked them both on the head before signing that they should be kinder to Wanhope and that this was a good sign. Then she abruptly went a bit green and fled for the bathroom.

As the muffled but distinctive sounds of somebody throwing up reached their ears Erica quickly excused herself and hurried after the petite redhead. Maínomai wandered over towards Fuseau as the sounds stopped.

"Is Mab ill?"

Fuseau looked pensive. "Not that I noticed; she's not usually the type ta throw up even when she is, unless it's food poisoning."

"I don't doctor food," Pýř growled.

"I know ya don't," the spindly Mist said mildly. "Ya don't see me tryin' to kill ya fer hurtin' her, do ya?"

Even so the tension was rising slightly, so Maínomai opened his mouth to diffuse the situation. Except he never got the words out, as in that moment there was a piercing squeal from the bathroom and Mab zoomed out, dragonfly wings buzzing as she hurtled across the room and smashed into Fuseau, knocking him flat.

"It worked, Fuseau, it _worked_!" The former Mist Squad Leader babbled, hugging her lover around the shoulders.

"Good-oh darlin', but what was it tha' worked?" Fuseau asked with admirable aplomb for somebody sprawled on the floor that had just barely managed to avoid smashing his head open by Conjuring up a cushion. A really fluffy white one; it was big and looked very soft.

"I'm pregnant!"

"Finally?" Pýř asked; oh, he knew about them trying in advance and he hadn't told his partner? Meanie.

Wanhope clapped in a congratulatory manner. Erica joined in with the clapping as she emerged from the bathroom, even as Mab practically _babbled_ with excitement without even bothering to keep her languages straight. Maínomai hadn't even known they were trying for a child, although it seemed obvious now that he thought about it. Mab had retired from field missions into a less physically demanding job, plus they'd been together for years and were unlikely to part ways having made it this far.

"Well, that's a leetle more reason to celebrate isn't it? So a toast to the parents. Non-alcoholic of course." He suggested with a smile.

The round of drinks was followed by the fascinating spectacle of Fuseau doting on Mab and the faerie queen _letting_ him, as well as a continuation of Wanhope's peek-a-boo game with Serena up until the little girl needed changing. This was one aspect of parenting that Maínomai _wasn't_ keen on, but that didn't mean he was going to chicken out.

* * *

Translations

Scheiß = shit (German)

Piccina = little one (female) (Italian)

Vahn = hallucination, delusion, fantasy, mirage (Arabic)

Cordial = from the heart, sincere (French, Portuguese); also a type of soft drink or a liqueur (English)

Also, thanks to Lusinka for pointing out the naming flub, which enabled us to expand on Varia Naming and What Can Go Wrong.

Omake: That Smile is Dangerous

It had taken Erica a while into their fling to determine that Maínomai was genuinely oblivious to the effect his smile had on people that weren't Pýř. Erica had even been allowed in on the conspiracy to keep it a secret by Kuchisake and Mab; it was distinctly odd to be undercover Varia and yet join in on a semi-unofficial Varia conspiracy that was 'for a good cause'. That smile was _dangerous_.

It had taken even longer to realise that Maínomai was a genuinely _nice_ guy, who due to being Varia just happened killed people for a living. He was polite, helpful and considerate on top of being unfairly pretty and highly intelligent, if slightly-scatterbrained with sticky fingers. Erica also knew that he was very talented with his hands… she honestly missed that bit… and there were times that she wished that she loved him as more than a friend. She wasn't in love with him and he wasn't with her, so they weren't going to get married when she knew that he wasn't hers to keep. So even if she sometimes wished otherwise it wasn't meant to be more than friendship between them in the long-term.

Sometimes she wanted that more than others and as Maínomai settled with Serena on her sitting room couch and hummed something as he stroked their daughter's hair... this was one of them. Although Erica wasn't sure what song it was; he'd probably tell her if she asked. Of course, that was when the knocking on the door started, so she walked over and opened the door to see Uncle Federico and Hamlet.

The best part about the security set up on her suite really had to be the invitation protocols, even with the accompanying potential for complications however small they were now that she had actually given birth. However she couldn't quite turn some people away even if she wanted to just bask in the picture that her former lover and their daughter made.

"Serena's sleeping, so keep quiet. Uncle, Hamlet, you're welcome to visit this afternoon."

"Of course." Hamlet promised.

"And Maínomai is over, so no threatening him." She told her Uncle firmly.

"I promise." He said. She eyed him suspiciously before letting him through anyway. Erica managed to turn around fast enough to see Maínomai's grey eyes change from sleepy to an instant of overwhelming intensity before going back to sleepy. It was the little things like that which showed up occasionally that reminded her that her former lover and father of her daughter made a living out of killing people in impossible ways. The Varia didn't get easy missions after all, most of them being considered 'impossible for humans' which had led to all sorts of mutters about demons and monsters.

Her Uncle and his Mist Guardian settled themselves in her sitting room chairs and after a few moments began a conversation, mostly concerning where everyone else was; the most surprising absence was Macbeth's as he was supposed to be with Federico today but was insteas chasing after Banshee, who was in turn chasing the retired racing hound Mai-mai around. So far, Macbeth had been without success at catching or otherwise coercing the cat to stop terrorising the greyhound. Erica laughed at the story and suggested a 'cat-free' territory be established that Man-mai could retreat to; Maínomai then mentioned the names of the Mists in Housekeeping who were maintaining Erica's security before going back to doting on his daughter.

"Are you sure you don't want to marry him?" Federico asked, changing the subject of the conversartion. "Look at him, so domestic!"

"I already told you that we're friends." Erica said patiently

"Are you sure it's not because he's an incurable flirt? Some of the maids are very sweet on him." Hamlet added slyly.

Maínomai looked a little confused. "I don't remember flirting with any of the maids. I've been nice and polite because there's no reason to make Housekeeping work harder, but no actual flirting." Erica believed him; she'd initially thought Maínomai had been flirting outrageously with her on that shopping trip but subsequent dates had proved that no, that was his normal charming self with just a little bit of flirting on the side. He was just that nice. Of course, when he _was_ flirting he went from 'merely' charming all the way to outright irresistible, which took considerable effort to resist.

Serena then started fussing and didn't settle down even when her father started humming again. A few moments and a quick check later, Maínomai sighed, "I think she's hungry, Erica. She's not wet or stinky at all." Unsaid was that Maínomai could probably read his daughter's mind and get a feeling for her mental state; he was a Mist after all and a part-time intelligencer.

"Alright, hand her to me and I'll go get a burp rag and feed her." Serena was still very young and needed small feedings every few hours rather than two or three larger ones a day.

Erica took her daughter into the kitchen for a bit in case Serena started crying for real. She could only hear a murmur of conversation coming from her sitting room as they were still keeping voices low, but she didn't feel any Flames in use and there were no loud noises going on so it was probably for the best to feed Serena in here because Federico got silly about her breastfeeding in front of him. Twit; he got worked up about the silliest things. Feeding Serena only took a few minutes and then she had Serena on her shoulder, to burp. That messy business taken care of, she walked back into the sitting room to see a sight she hadn't been prepared for.

Maínomai and Hamlet were standing in the middle of the room, just outside the cluster of chairs and sofa, her former lover with a small smirk and Hamlet blushing red in a way that said she was utterly flustered; Hamlet almost _never_ blushed as she wasn't a natural redhead. Maínomai was cradling Hamlet's hand and from Erica's angle, looked like he was supporting her weight from her elbow with his other hand. That was not clear from Federico's angle though, which suggested twisty Mist-style head-games had happened between her Uncle's Mist Guardian and Maínomai within the past few minutes.

"Now _that's_ me flirting," her friend finished, his face lighting up with one of _those_ smiles that made women's knees weak and insides warm even from a distance, and poor Hamlet wasn't even a full arm's-length away. That was probably the 'killing blow' in whatever game they had going on, judging by the way Federico groaned and put a hand over his eyes.

It wasn't like Erica had been given a reason to warn Hamlet of that smile beforehand; the secrecy was for a good cause after all.


	6. Parenting is not a Varia Quality 6

Happy Christmas everyone! Please watch out for the mentions of dubious consent, violent death and extreme gore, which as this is a story about assassins should be a given...

* * *

 **Parenting is not a Varia Quality**

It took until January for Pýř and Maínomai really settle into the new routine –missions, training, visits to the Iron Fort and to the house– and have both the time and mental space to fit in other things as well. Things such as, for instance, asking Erica about the particulars of Maínomai's unofficial admission into the Lanza Famiglia.

"Why have your relatives let the misidentification continue?" Pýř asked his partner's friend, both of them watching Maínomai play peek-a-boo with Serena as the little girl squealed with laughter and reached up to tug on her father's fingers and hair. Today's footman had actually said 'your cousin and his friend' upon reaching the door of Erica's suite and she hadn't corrected him.

"Well, several reasons really," Erica admitted easily, nimble fingers working on a very fine and lacy bit of crochet, possibly to edge a tablecloth or a pillowcase. "Firstly to protect me from unpleasant rumours and unwanted suitors: current gossip suggests I because pregnant with Serena as a contribution to the Vongola's unofficial 'Skills Acquisitions Policy', so her father is believed to be some prominent Independent or other who agreed to this in exchange for the Famiglia remaining hands-off and not seeking further advantages, or to secure a favour."

"Is that common?" Pýř hadn't heard of it before, but really such a policy, unofficial or otherwise, did make a certain degree of sense. The higher echelons of all of the Underworld's Famiglias were strongly focused on blood over ability to a greater or lesser extent, so a certain level of eugenic behaviour was to be expected. How else were the Famiglias supposed to make sure they had the 'best' heirs possible? Selective breeding and the cultivating of 'traits' that the Famiglia prized was the safest and most palatable option, distasteful though it was. All the tutoring and training in the world only went so far if the heir didn't have a certain base level of ability and inclination, or had a health defect that would prove disastrous for the Famiglia should they die shortly after taking over or worse, pass the problem on to the next generation.

"Not common, but not uncommon either," Erica admitted. "Generally with people a little further from the Vongola main line of inheritance than me though. Anyway, other reasons… the second reason was to help Maínomai's visits seem less unusual. A totally unrelated man visiting me regularly while I was pregnant would attract unwanted attention, but a cousin? Several other relatives on my father's side made a point to schedule regular visits while you were away on missions, so it would look like the Lanzas were taking it in turns according to who was available rather than Maínomai having a personal stake in my pregnancy. However it also links back to the first reason, because when a Famiglia does that it is Traditional to have a not-too-close male relative take on fatherly duties. Hence why Maínomai was and is visiting at least three times as often as any other specific relative."

That was very sneaky and very considerate of her Family. "Clever," Pýř conceded.

"Thirdly, well, Maínomai is Varia and civilian-born, so this is technically a play to get him to join the Lanzas and make him a Family Asset," Erica admitted candidly. "My Uncle Umberto is _particularly_ keen on this bit, which is why he's letting everyone imply Maínomai is another of his sons from the wrong side of the blanket. Although that Maínomai has a truly uncanny resemblance to my cousin Andrea, Umberto's eldest bastard, does help there." She shook her head. "As I hadn't actually _seen_ Andrea since I was four, I didn't actually _know_ that until he arrived at my door with Olivia during that mission you both took in May. Let's just say it was a shock, hm?"

Pýř deduced by her chagrined tone that there had been confusion, emotional meltdowns and raised voices involved in the early phase of that encounter, so let it lie. Instead he focused on the more relevant part of her statement:

"Being Varia is something your uncle considers an asset?" It was of course, but few Mafiosi outside the Varia recognised it; the more sensible ones did and benefited accordingly because retired assassins made the best bodyguards for heirs, should they be trusted around said heirs of course. Most of the mafia however bought heavily into the rumours of inhumanity and madness surrounding the Varia and so proved themselves to be unthinking idiots.

"Uncle Umberto has told me stories about his own uncles, my great-uncles, who were Varia during the Second World War," Erica explained, turning the crochet in her lap and beginning a different section of the pattern she was working on. "My Grandfather Lanza was the middle of three brothers and the only one to marry; his elder brother was an assassin and one of those called upon by Ottava's first Cloud to form the original Independent Assassination Squad. He was dead within the year, but my younger great-uncle felt it his duty to replace him. He actually survived to the end of the war, but was horribly crippled during the in-fighting that overtook the organisation then and finally succumbed to his wounds fifteen years later."

In other words, long before Erica had ever met him. "My condolences," Pýř said respectfully.

"My Uncle feels that to be Varia is to be utterly devoted to the Vongola, just as being a Guardian is. He feels the same about my mother's position as Head of Housekeeping, incidentally; all positions that require a person to place the Famiglia considerably above one's own desires and needs. So while he would never push any of his children to become Varia against their personal inclinations, the opportunity to adopt a Varia is one he is seizing with both hands."

So it was less about her uncle feeling that having a Varia 'son' would bring prestige to the Lanzas and more about Umberto Lanza honouring his own uncles through supporting Maínomai. That Pýř could accept: the man had an angle, but it was in no way detrimental to his partner's needs and well-being. Erica's uncle wanted to 'pay forward' and support the Varia despite not actually having Varia Quality himself. This raised a question…

"Are the Lanzas among those who provide Varia funding?" The Vongola Famiglia as a whole did provide a 'grant' to the Varia, so that it could continue operating even in the absence of missions such as if or when the Vongola Famiglia went to war, but it was a genuine pittance: just enough for the kitchens to provide three basic meals a day to all members and a skeleton staff, while also covering the heating and electricity bills. This was partially augmented by regular donations and bequests from various estates and persons that had accumulated over the years, which enabled more staff to be supported, paid for the upkeep of various specific Housekeeping positions, new uniforms and other odds and ends such as provision for the small stable of horses attached to the Varia Mansion; that last specific bequest, for instance, was paid for by the Cavallone out of the invested funds of a Varia who had belonged to that Famiglia.

"My uncle pays a tithe to the Varia in honour of his uncles, I believe," Erica informed him.

That made Pýř feel much better about the whole thing: Umberto Lanza was, in this at least, a person who put his money where his mouth was.

"Could I talk to your uncle about making this official then?" Maínomai asked, clearly having been following the entire conversation while also tickling his baby daughter.

"If you really want to," Erica said softly, eyes luminous with emotion and her Flames ever so slightly more intense than usual, "I can arrange a meeting. I feel I should warn you however that my Uncle Umberto is a Sun, a family man and almost oppressively extrovert; you will probably find yourself roped into attending family gatherings, babysitting his younger children and all the rest of the well-meaning nepotism that is endemic in all mafia Famiglias, even though the Lanzas are less of a genuine Famiglia and more of a subdivision of the Vongola these days."

"Sounds like fun," Maínomai grinned, scooping up Serena and lifting her high above his head, making her squeal gleefully.

"I can assure you that you will not be bored," Erica said ruefully. "Embarrassed, delighted, besieged, bribed, pampered, supported, flustered, interrogated and all the other things that come with having far too many nosy relatives invested in your welfare… those you will have to get used to." She paused. "As will Pýř, since you very clearly come as a set, although you'll probably have to beat it into certain people's heads that you're not in a romantic relationship."

Pýř winced internally, but recognised that such assumptions were a hazard of a partnership with somebody as pretty and charming as Maínomai. Certain Varia had also believed that to begin with, although ironically Lussuria had never been one of those making that assumption.

"I hate it when people think that," Maínomai whined, pouting; "why does everyone think everything has to be about sex?"

"People love gossip and scandal," Erica said equably. "Prove yourself boring and they'll drop you instantly. Although in _your_ case, Maínomai dear, you are likely to find yourself being introduced to any number of pretty girls in the hope that you'll find one you're willing to settle down with; one that is at a suitable genetic distance away from your 'father', so as not to suggest the possibility of inheritance issues of course."

Maínomai moaned theatrically and promptly buried his face in his daughter's stomach, making Serena giggle as Pýř smirked evilly at that highly amusing mental image.

"So when can we meet?" The Cloud asked.

"I can set up something within the week, if you want: Uncle Umberto is retired, so he's free most days," Erica explained.

"Thursday morning?" Pýř suggested; they had training on Monday and Tuesday and there was a seminar Maínomai was giving the apprentices on Alteration on Wednesday afternoon, but they both had Thursday free.

"I'll set it up," Erica promised with a smile, "and text you the details tomorrow. Maínomai, are you going to hog your daughter all afternoon or is Pýř going to get to spoil her too? He is her godfather after all and should be allowed to."

"Do I have to?" Maínomai complained, making a face and hugging his daughter close.

"I'll teach you to make ravioli," Erica offered cunningly, setting her crochet aside.

Maínomai brightened. "From scratch?"

"From scratch," Erica promised, smiling indulgently. "Hand Serena over so we can go have fun in the kitchen."

Pýř promptly found himself with an armful of very sleepy baby, so he hummed and rocked the four-month-old until she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and kept her cradled close, watching in amusement as his partner and their best female friend made ricotta and lemon zest ravioli together. Erica wound up with ricotta on her face, Maínomai had flour in his hair and the kitchen was a mess by the time they were finished, but it tasted fantastic and Pýř had rather enjoyed being able to spectate rather than having to referee, as generally happened when Maínomai did this kind of thing.

He was also looking forward to meeting Umberto Lanza, despite Erica's description of him as 'oppressively extrovert'. A man who valued family as much as Erica had implied was somebody Pýř could respect, even if personality-wise they would probably grate on each-other terribly; Clouds and Suns generally had difficulties co-existing.

* * *

Maínomai was probably one of the few Mists in the entire Mafia that enjoyed a physical workout; back when Boss had been shaking up the Varia, he had set a few physical standards for the Mist Division to adhere to in return for surrendering control of the Varia's finances to Mammon. The physical standards were actually pretty lax, if only because Mists could use their Flames to 'cheat' in so many ways. Most mafia-raised Mists weren't the most athletic –why would you have to be if you could get someone or something else to do the heavy lifting for you? – and bar the occasional unusual case like himself, most civilian Mists that joined had civilian levels of fitness.

Maínomai had never had any fitness issues. His mother had been an elementary school teacher prior to her death but she taken gymnastics with her sister both as a child and as an adult, so he couldn't remember ever not knowing how to tumble, turn, twist and flip even if his mother hadn't pursued a career in teaching dance or gymnastics; he just about remembered when she taught his little brother how, although his brother had later dropped it to focus on his studies. Maínomai had kept up with it all just so that he could wear himself out enough to actually stay still long enough to study things he had to know but didn't interest him.

The Varia, in the interests of keeping its assassins fit and healthy, had a number of rooms dedicated to fitness, sparring and Flame training, with certain rooms dedicated to one type of Flame –Storms had three reinforced rooms in order to keep those Flames from disintegrating walls and floors– and others for more generic use; there were also various 'playgrounds' the Varia had that could be trained on as well.

Most apprentices were introduced to gymnastics with an eye to improving balance, flexibility and muscle control but less than thirty assassins used the room set aside for gymnastic training regularly; most of the regulars were the Varia Ladies and the rest were a scattering of oddballs from other Divisions. Squalo was the only Officer that did so often, as some of the sword-styles he knew were excessively acrobatic. Bel occasionally did so when bored and the young Storm had killed the last person that had intruded while he was there because the intruder had supposedly seen Bel's eyes, although as that had happened after a growth spurt had occurred, it was private theory of Maínomai's that Bel had killed the guy for witnessing a fall or less than perfection in whatever routine the Prince had tried.

Today and tomorrow were dedicated to training, so while Pýř was training on one of the 'playgrounds' with other Squad Leaders Maínomai was beating the balance beam; one he had Conjured out of Mist Flames. He was working on improving his ability to focus and multi-task so he had started with some simple exercises on the beam and slowly worked up to basic routines. Now that he was Curse-free his attention span had improved, so he could work on the more attention-demanding fields of using Mist-Flames. That meant months of re-training, pushing his mental limits and more re-training as the Curse faded further and his capabilities increased. He still couldn't hold a Territory for more than ten minutes, but that was much better than the two minute limit he had been at for the first half of his Varia career. Similarly the level of detail and coherence of his Conjurations had improved, so larger-scale and more complex ones were something he was currently working on, hence the balance beam. He'd never specialise in physical illusions like Kuchisake or Fuseau did because while Kuchisake's were all manner of horrors made real, Fuseau's creatures and plants were able to act independently and naturally to the point that they could even metabolise food or 'die' from lack of oxygen! Maínomai recognised he'd never be that good, although his ability to create objects could certainly become more fluent in time.

Now that he had so much more of an ability to actually focus, Maínomai could really work on his fine-control and improve on areas both outside and within his specialty; he could now actually use his secondary and tertiary Flames –his secondary was Lightning and his tertiary Sun– so he had been testing his limits and trying out ideas with those when not thinking about Serena or how to just access them. All the recent practice and improvements in his abilities were probably making his internal ranking within the Mist Division rise. The Division's 'ranking' system was based on three main criteria: Flame reserves, fine-control and breadth of applicable knowledge. Mammon naturally claimed first in all those areas due to being the Mist Acrobaleno, but Maínomai had previously just scraped into the top half of the Division; that had mostly been due to the 'sloppy' work outside his specialty making him look bad. Now he was probably higher up, but he hadn't checked as he kept forgetting to; it felt so much less important that seeing his daughter and trying out exciting new ideas. It wasn't an exact science or whatever it was that 'Ranking Fuuta' did, but at least with the internal rankings the criteria were known if subjective. Subjective to Mammon, specifically; anybody who wanted to argue with Division Rankings had to take it up with the Mist Officer. Most people sensibly did not.

Maínomai still didn't know the exact details of what he was going to talk about in his seminar, the one Kuchisake had insisted he give now that he was coherent enough to do a talk on his specialty, but he did have a plan; it would have to be basic enough for any non-Mist Varia wandering in to understand it, but Alteration was anything but basic in truth even if the concepts were simple. Practice made it _look_ simple, but the reality was anything but. He'd have to give examples and demos, so it would probably be for the best to do examples of things like weight, gravity, exception clauses and how Alterations differed from Curses and other Enchantments. Useful basic stuff for both Mists and non-Mists, then a break before the complex stuff. Not the basic 'what you can do' as that would be in the first half, but the specific 'how you do this' with warnings about the necessity of being specific in how to make it work and some different methods to achieve what you wanted. Audience participation would be preferable, if only to make sure they understood enough to ask questions. Plus something for people to practice on; belief begot success. Maybe fruit? He'd have to talk to Housekeeping...

* * *

Maínomai's lecture went well in Pýř's opinion. First Maínomai ascertained how many people knew the differences between the two main 'branches' of Mist Flame use and other basics; the difference between the branches was mostly academic and very fuzzy at higher skill levels anyway. In short one branch covered the Mist mind-tricks, from actual illusions, puppeteering, knowledge-seeking practices, various knowledge-transfers, mental overlays and even possession; all things taking place on the inside of a person's brain, in essence. The other 'branch' was more physical in nature or else affected physical reality instead of being purely mental constructs, so the second branch of course split and tangled wildly with everything in the first one.

That was why definitions –even loose ones– were handy for keeping things organised to a degree. Conjuration was straight forward in what it was; an idea brought into reality and constructed by Mist Flames, so it could be anything from a coat to knives to poison so long as whoever Conjured whatever-it-was knew enough about it to make it work. Physical illusions were a 'higher-level' subset of that as while the 'idea' was not always found in reality, they could affect things with their presences physically so Kuchisake's horrors all had a sense of blatant wrongness that was unique to each horror while Fuseau's illusionary fish could eat and digest fish food; he had an entire aquarium of them in his rooms.

Enchantments had a very broad definition but generally it meant adding a property or trait to something for as long as the person could focus and power it; Territories were thus a defined area so heavily Enchanted that 'reality' as people knew it no longer existed: everything happened as the creator wanted, because a Territory's 'reality' was dictated by the creator of the Territory. Curses were thus defined as any Enchantment made permanent that was directly intended to cause pain, disaster or impairment up to and including death, usually over a period of time. Alterations on the other hand were the 'nicer' branch of permanent Enchantments as Alterations were defined as any Enchantment made permanent that changed the function or at least one property of an object, or one property of an idea when dealing with the abstract.

That sounded bland, but as his partner continued explaining the magnitude of the possibilities of Alteration he had all the apprentices and the Varia that had showed up to listen sitting forwards in their seats wide-eyed; even those who weren't Mists or didn't have Mist as a secondary because understanding Alteration was highly useful, especially for achieving the 'impossible'. Maínomai even demonstrated this by taking his machete and Altering it to be 'unable to cut' so it couldn't even though it had previously cut a piece of paper under the paper's own weight a few moments before. Then using a bowl of fruit procured from Housekeeping he proceeded to show off other Alterations, from physical properties like colour or smell to the nonsensical like 'ability to produce a musical note when tapped'. Pýř's personal favourite bit was when his partner had Altered 'the amount of force gravity exerts' on a piece of fruit into the negatives and asked all the excited listeners to think of why it was gradually accelerating towards the ceiling and if they had questions before he got into the technical bits of how and why some things worked and why some didn't.

The second and longer portion of the lecture –after Maínomai explained the floating fruit trick and how it was possible to walk through the lectern and desk– was devoted to how and why. Maínomai then explained that to Alter anything a person had to know what they were Altering and how they were doing it, so both a broad understanding and specific knowledge was required along with the Flames for the initial Alteration; unlike Enchanted objects, an Alteration needed no more power to work or function once complete, so weapons that were Bound were Enchanted, not Altered. This knowledge covered the physical make-up of various objects and living things, chemistry, physics, how vehicles worked, what part actually did what in various machines and a keen understanding of the abstract concepts on top of that; at the basic level of Alteration a good high school education would give enough of all the various subjects to get by on, but more specialised knowledge would be required for more complicated or delicate Alterations.

The explanation with the 'flying fruit' was 'gravity is the attractive or pulling force measured at 9.8 metres per second squared on Earth, so turning the positive number into a negative means the Earth was pushing the fruit upwards at a set rate'. Much like how 'walking through' solid objects made a mockery of physics because 'you Alter the space between atoms without affecting the space the object takes up or its appearance'. Alteration required specifics because at its most basic there was just one 'thing' being altered from what it originally was or was purported to be; Maínomai being a specialist wasn't limited to one modification at a time and victims of the rare times when he lost his civility enough to pursue a non-lethal revenge... the most recent victim had no less than four hundred thirty-four Alterations, each set up with enough clauses and exceptions that the effects could cascade and mutate… It wasn't like they hadn't eventually been removed, after three days of misery and much begging from both the victim and Varia Medical. It had taken his partner less than ten minutes to plan that out and no more than a touch to pass the whole thing over to his victim like a computer virus, because Maínomai had been inspired by all his recent research into computer science and programming.

As Alterations weren't Curses, they by definition should not be the direct cause of death, but they could certainly cause 'suffering' like feeling sick at the smell of certain foods or running a higher temperature than normal while not being genuinely ill; there were all sorts of creative ways to inflict discomfort, from feeling a crawling sensation all over, shortness of breath from a 'lack' of functional haemoglobin, a craving for a food the victim hated or an inability to censor themselves. Not that Alterations couldn't be used to kill, but it took a bit more creative thought and a flexibility in mindset that most people didn't have; Altering someone's blood level of potassium and calcium could cause heart function to cease, although that potassium and calcium had to go somewhere for that to happen, like be deposited in bone tissue. A Curse would just cause a heart attack directly.

In terms of use Enchantments were 'easier' because a person was causing and powering the 'changes', but Alterations took a certain level of finality as 'this is what it was, this is what it is now'. Alterations also took a certain level of knowledge of what and how to change things because the change was permanent so it had to make some sort of sense; not always pure scientific sense though, or even mechanical sense and then it was. Alterations were also much harder to detect once set, as they did not require any maintenance so the only way to notice them was to have experience of how the Altered thing or person had been before the Alteration.

The benefit of Alterations over Curses or Enchantments was how specific they were at even the most basic levels. Thus Hawkeye's jacket-curse should be considered a malicious Alteration –the rest of his uniform and clothing was usually fine but his jacket tended to be utterly destroyed somehow– but because it caused Hawkeye 'pain', if only to the wallet and his dignity, it was a jacket-curse. Alterations _could_ cause a person pain because Altering a person's body _did_ hurt, although how much depended on what was being Altered, but pain was not the purpose of an Alteration. With Curses, the pain _was_ the point.

Judging by all the questions the seminar had gone well, possibly because unlike Ghul –the only other Alteration specialist the Varia had– Maínomai didn't speak in metaphors and was friendly enough to answer any question regardless of complexity, like why one method over another was chosen or other basic questions.

Seeing the differences in his partner and how breaking that Curse was playing out was astounding as Pýř had been partnered with Maínomai within months of getting Named and so their partnership had lasted for over five years; Pýř was aware of how much chaos –major or minor– that Curse had caused when paired with Maínomai's ADHD. Breaking that Curse, having his aura healed and becoming a father had however all effected significant improvements in Maínomai that had built on each other. Pýř doubted that anyone could ever call Maínomai a very collected person, but at least now he was more responsible and considerate in everything and not just to people he liked; well when he remembered to be, as the ADHD wasn't going away even though the various coping mechanisms for that were actually working now instead of being Curse-sabotaged. Maínomai had also mellowed slightly so while still high-strung, he hadn't had anything approaching a panic attack following a few near-misses back when his partner was being healed and feeling odd as his body and mind adjusted to not having a Curse that he had been born with.

Therefore Pýř was less worried about his partner meeting with Umberto Lanza than he could have been; he was more worried for himself as extrovert he was not.

* * *

Maínomai hadn't been sure what to think about Umberto Lanza prior to meeting him. Oh, the Sun's angle was part prestige –if not in the potential show dog way some mafia wanted– and part honouring his relatives, who really deserved the honour because the early Varia had been brutal to its enemies and to each-other in the in-fighting that happened pre-Tyrant. It took the Varia a couple of decades of Tyrant's rule and many successive generations –a generation was generally defined as about a decade in the Varia– before the Varia became anything approaching what it was now. Assassins as a rule didn't play 'nice' with others and the Varia had the best assassins in the world with the client base and reputation to prove it, so the early Varia was messy and far from supportive to its assassins.

It didn't explain why Umberto Lanza was inviting them both to his home, or at least it didn't until you realised that Camporeale was the Lanza Family's home base. Camporeale was a small, sleepy town about fifteen kilometres from the Vongola Mansion but it was further away than that by road; nearly three times that in fact. Due to the numerous Lanza and Vongola intermarriages over many generations Camporeale had a very solid Vongola presence, complete with the locals' adjustment to hosting mafia in the form of selective senses and memory. Of course most of the locals were probably civilians with mafia connections if they weren't low-ranking Mafiosi themselves…

Maínomai had pressed Erica for details about her cousins after lunch on the Sunday she had explained things, so he now knew names –all twenty-one of them including the three unacknowledged children by his former mistress– and that the latest one wasn't born yet. He'd asked about everything from ages to birth order and which mother each of them had and various mishaps that had attained a degree of family infamy, of which there had been a few. Erica had even produced a photo album, which while skewed towards the younger family members was still very useful.

He hadn't asked Maria-Chiara for further details on anything as she reminded him of Tyrant in some way that he couldn't place, so he instead he had found and asked Olivia Lanza in Personnel –Serena's other godmother, whom he had located later that same afternoon– for a few excerpts of 'their extensive family history' to try and get an idea of Umberto's temperament beyond his being very much a family man, 'oppressively extroverted' and mafia to the bone all the same. He could have asked Ruggero if Ruggero had been nearby, but he had decided against it; Olivia was older and had actually lived with the man and the majority of her siblings until very recently so she knew them all much better than Erica did.

Olivia had shared quite a bit, but had deliberately omitted some things because 'her father wouldn't want her to spoil the surprise', which had been an interesting confirmation of the degree of respect Umberto Lanza's children held for him despite his womanising ways. All in all, Maínomai was rather looking forward to the meeting.

Pýř pulled into the drive and then parked outside a large home on the outskirts; Umberto Lanza had made a fortune in construction in the seventies and eighties, which was why he could afford and support so many children. Pýř also being his normal protective self was the first to knock on the door; Clouds could react as fast as Suns, so his friend had better reflexes and Maínomai being a Mist was best able to support his friend from behind because he then had time to react, focus and decide how best to support his partner. His friend clicked his tongue right after pressing the buzzer –a sign he was sensing Flames and making it obvious for those he was with– but the Cloud not reaching for weapons told Maínomai that it was more or less all-clear without having to check himself.

That meant that Pýř was the one mobbed by children the moment permission to enter was given: a fast-moving toddler in a pink smock dress and pigtails crashed into his partner at knee height and wrapped her arms tightly around his legs, forcing Pýř to bend his knees and hunch forwards, then in that second that he was adjusting his weight two elementary-age boys rammed into the Cloud and knocked him clean off-balance. Pýř recovered well, falling sideways rather than backwards and landing on outstretched hands rather than his bum. Then another toddler –this one a boy in dungarees– stumbled out from behind the door, trotted around the pile that was Pýř plus three giggling children and hugged Maínomai around the knees.

"Up, Rea!" the toddler commanded, letting go and holding up his hands.

Maínomai obligingly lifted up the toddler to perch the little boy on his hip. "Hello there," he said, "I'm not Rea." By 'Rea' the two-year-old –who was Olivia's youngest brother Silvio– likely meant Andrea, of whom Erica had not had any pictures but whom he apparently greatly resembled.

The toddler stared at him with wide purple eyes. "Not Rea," the little boy agreed gravely after a short pause. "Look like Rea; what name?"

"I'm Maínomai," the Varia assassin said easily, slightly curious as to how the toddler would manage the rather difficult pronunciation.

Silvio screwed up his face in concentration. "Minoai?"

"Ma-í-no-mai," the Mist sounded out clearly, smiling at the rather impressive first attempt.

"Maninonai," Silvio enunciated, frowning adorably as he tried to get his mouth to cooperate. "Is long," the toddler then complained. "Can say Ninai?"

"Yes, you may," Maínomai agreed. It wasn't quite his Varia name and was far enough away from it for people to be unlikely to be able to connect him to it unless they were already aware of the connection.

This apparently passed muster, as the toddler slumped into him and rested his head against Maínomai's chest, freeing up the Mist's attention to pay more attention to his partner and their audience.

Pýř's response to his highly undignified fall had been to trap the smaller of the two boys under his legs, hoist the little girl –probably Umberto's youngest daughter Elena– over one shoulder then tickle the larger boy until he apologised. Said unfortunate was currently shrieking with laughter and begging for mercy while the smaller boy struggled pointlessly and their little sister giggled at them from where Pýř was holding her firmly in place on his shoulder. This whole hilarious tableau was being watched by a very pregnant Sicilian woman with rather dark colouring and a tall, olive-skinned man with short brown hair shot with only a few strands of grey at the temples and very keen purple eyes. That was definitely Umberto Lanza; he looked exactly like the photograph Erica had shown him.

"Papà! Help!" the smaller and probably younger boy yelped, squirming in an attempt to get out from under Pýř as his older brother flailed helplessly.

Umberto Lanza laughed out loud, the cheerful booming sound filling Maínomai's ears as beside the tall man his shorter wife smiled warmly. "Ah, well, you were the ones to knock our guest over, boys! He should let you go if you apologise, Davide, Filippo."

"Sorry!" The smaller boy –Filippo– said promptly, quickly scrabbling away to hide behind his mother when Pýř released him.

"I'm so-o-o-o-o-r-r-r-r-r-y!" Davide managed to force out. Pýř then mercifully released the unfortunate boy and got back to his feet as the seven-year-old fled back to his father's side. Little Elena remained slung over the Cloud's shoulder like a sack, giggling happily with her pigtails skewed.

"Welcome Maínomai, Pýř," Umberto said affably in Sicilian, not apologising at all for his children's behaviour. "This is my lovely wife Stella and I believe you are already acquainted with my youngest four, Davide, Filippo, Elena and Silvio. Do come in and make yourselves comfortable."

Pýř nodded and moved forwards, letting Maínomai fall in behind him as they entered the house. His partner seemed completely unruffled by the ambush, which he'd probably seen coming since his Flame-sense was certainly sharp enough for him to detect Latents, even small children. The children mobbing visitors was a transparent ploy to judge a guest's character and if Pýř hadn't been able to recognise something that basic then he never would have survived being practically part of the Mist Division for years; a lot of Mists were far more opaque and complicated than that, even before any manipulation approached head-games or political territory. So Pýř had played along. Now the Cloud asked the children questions he already knew the answer to –their ages and which name belonged to whom– while Maínomai provided the required 'oohs' and 'aahs' that were part and parcel of dealing with toddlers and younger children; the kids were two, three-and-a-half, six and seven-and-a-half respectively and were all present because Umberto didn't let his kids go to one of the mafia academies until they were ten and had them home-schooled up to that point.

Once they reached a main room Stella Lanza –except she was Italian so probably still used her maiden name; what _was_ her maiden name? – deftly herded the two older boys back to the schoolroom, reminding them that their older sister was waiting for them and that they had work to do. The short, curvy brunette clearly ruled her children with a firm hand, as they obediently vanished through a door and did not return. Stella then offered drinks, going to get them from the kitchen despite Umberto's offer to carry the tray for her. According to Olivia, the romance that had this firm, caring woman married to Umberto was sappy enough to belong in a romance novel despite the significant age difference. Having heard the story –which was somewhat Cinderella-esque– Maínomai had been forced to agree that yes, it was ridiculously soppy and quite excessively romantic to the point of being cavity-inducing. Seriously, who fell in love at first sight with the cleaning lady who mopped the floors in their office building?!

"So," Umberto said once Stella was out of the room, "my favourite niece tells me you're interested in accepting my invitation to join my family."

"Yep!" Maínomai said cheerfully, releasing Silvio to toddle across the room and climb onto his father's lap. Elena was clearly happy to stay with Pýř and was playing with the Cloud's hair, apparently fascinated by the colour. "It'll make things safer for Serena and make it easier for me to stick around when I eventually retire from the Varia."

Umberto beamed, startling Maínomai slightly as the sheer force of the man's delight radiated from him like sunshine. "Wonderful!" He boomed, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to the family!"

Pýř stiffened slightly but before he could say anything Stella was back in the room with a tray of drinks and Umberto was on his feet –toddler son clinging to his back– helping to set everything out and telling his wife about how Maínomai was the son of a former lover and that his 'precious niece Erica' had noticed the resemblance and done the checks, so Maínomai was family! Wasn't it wonderful that he had a new son!

Maínomai deduced from this jovial outburst that, while Stella was definitely aware of her husband's mafia connections, she was still 'civilian' and therefore to be shielded from potentially dangerous secrets. Where that train of thought might have gone next he would never know, because Umberto dragged him to his feet and hugged him until he gasped, then handed him off to his wife to be hugged more gently as the Sun embraced Pýř and thanked him for 'looking after my son'.

Pýř promptly retorted that Maínomai was _his_ partner and of course he would look after him, which led to a delicate inquiry into gender preference and Maínomai having to explain a bit about his ADHD, because normal people –even normal Varia– did not need full-time minders. There was a bit of explaining what ADHD actually was to Umberto, without getting into the details of the brain chemistry, and explaining that while he didn't _need_ a minder to function day-to-day, it was better for him to have one, mostly so things got finished in a timely fashion; his ADHD also had benefits in terms of Intelligence work mostly because people couldn't read his mind like he could theirs as his 'racing thoughts' meant he was used to keeping track of multiple, random and frequently clashing trains of thought so he had a 'lighter touch' in the mind-reading business. He did _not_ mention the Curse, because that was personal and no longer relevant. Umberto accepted his friend's self-imposed task and work-sanctioned minding easily though, saying that in that case Pýř was 'practically family' and would always be welcome. The conversation then drifted in more practical and mundane directions.

* * *

Umberto Lanza turned out to be a well-meaning plotter in a distinctly Sun fashion; he did a lot of insisting, various 'you musts' and 'have you tried–' or 'have you met–' and a lot of smiling. He was very energetic for all that he was old enough to be that grandfather working in the garden and showing off how well his plants had done this year, while giving vegetables away to everyone that looked too thin. Maínomai thought it was nice, but he could see how, to more introverted people, the man could come off as 'oppressively extroverted' because he _was_ and Maínomai was feeling a bit like an over-stimulated introvert despite being one of the most social people within the Varia! Oh, it wasn't bossy so much as exhausting to be around for long, as Umberto was self-possessed and had a sort of charisma that made going along with whatever he decided was the path of least resistance.

Pýř clearly wasn't happy about the type of Sun that Umberto was, which was partly a clash of introvert and extrovert with a dash of 'infringing on my territory' annoyance; Umberto was a _Cloudy_ Sun. Pýř was generally easy-going about the people he claimed as his, right up until he wasn't; then he was very mean, although due to the fact he was usually surrounded by Mists he was actually considered far more easy-going than the usual Cloud by a lot of mafia-raised Varia. Very odd and a little crazy but easy-going because he kept a tighter rein on his temper than most Clouds or even Storms bothered to, unless of course he was short on sleep and serenity. It also meant that most Varia didn't bother trying to stop him when his temper _did_ snap because the person that had driven him to lose his temper most certainly deserved whatever punishment they got, no matter how excessive it looked. Generally speaking however, most Varia tried to avoid getting on his friend's nerves as Pýř had a documented history of taking knives to people who pissed him off; the first and most notable victim being the poisoner who had the dubious distinction of being the only person to ever succeed in poisoning the Cloud. Pýř had skinned the man alive for his infraction, then dumped him in Medical before he died of shock; the man's survival was what marked Pýř's choice of reaction as 'cruel and unusual', as the poisoner's physical recovery had taken over a week but he'd still not fully gotten over the trauma despite it now being years later.

It took a bit of work and math but eventually the kinks of his 'adoption' was worked out on the Lanza side; there was some Varia business that had to be done now that he was part of a Famiglia but he and Pýř could get the paperwork off Kuchisake once they got back to the mansion. They had even worked out a back-story and everything, including how and why most of the Lanzas hadn't met him beyond being illegitimate since it had been a fling and his mother had returned back to her country before realising she was pregnant. That was the fiction anyway, as the reality was quite different.

The conversation eventually led to Maínomai sharing his recruitment story which involved him being young and a _leetle_ drunk while travelling Europe as a teen, witnessing a team of Varia setting up a mission, stalking them for a bit, surprising them all terribly by stealing some of their weapons before introducing himself and then leading them on a hilarious –in retrospect, because at the time it had been kind of scary– chase across the rooftops and through a number of Parisian businesses that catered to people wanting to watch other people dancing in next-to-nothing and other, more exotic tastes, dumping one of his would be recruiters in a restaurant dumpster and other comedic shenanigans before he was 'caught'. Though he left off the fact he had cuddled up to the Rain who caught him and then thrown up on said Rain's boots. They had let him sleep the alcohol off in a Rain-induced-nap but having led a Squad on a merry chase for nearly an hour while inebriated meant he had Quality so the offer was made after they realised he wasn't from a Famiglia or other crime group. He had of course accepted the invitation and the rest was history; Umberto laughed and laughed.

Pýř being his partner, allowed Maínomai leverage in negotiations beyond joining the Lanzas; mostly in the ability to stall meeting everyone at once, although Umberto was clearly both pleased and put out at not getting his way. Manners were one thing, so was paying back a favour like the major one the Lanzas were doing him but Pýř had a limited tolerance for socialisation until he was used to people and that took time, exposure and inclination to actually like or tolerate someone; tolerance that was all used up right now. So they'd visit, but Serena –being his friend-slash-favourite-cousin Erica's daughter and Pýř's goddaughter according to the fiction– took priority in where they would spend their free time outside of missions. They wouldn't mind babysitting a bit more once Serena was old enough to start having play-dates, but it was best to ease into things given their busy schedule. Umberto clearly understood that going by the smile he wore when he conceded.

Maínomai could see a much better relationship with this 'father' than his actual one, although he'd have to stagger visits; possibly bringing Serena along as a way to spend time with his new 'relatives.' Although that might make people assume and read more into his and his friend's partnership which was always annoying.

* * *

Kuchisake looked up as Raas and Ghul entered her office. Both ignored the actual skeleton in its chair, the profusion of flowering vine plants hanging from the ceiling and clinging to the shelves, the porcelain tea kettle on its hot plate and the other odds and ends that decorated the office, including the jar containing a pair of floating eyes on the heavy and dark bookcase's top shelf; the shelf below that had the skeleton's heart contained in a canopic jar. They didn't miss the stacks of paperwork on her desk, as that's where Raas' eyes first fell and stayed.

"Busy as a bee today?" Raas asked, looking at the stack of papers that had to be filed, delivered or filled out. Raas knew which was which, as she'd be handing off the Mist Division's General Manager's duties to him soon after was settled into his recent promotion to Squad Leader. Raas had been Mammon's 'assistant' for years now, so it wasn't like he was unknown or hadn't met with various relevant people in other Divisions. He'd even done some liaising with the other General Managers.

Not that she minded the work, but as one of Mist Squad's members would be retiring soon, she had to find a suitable replacement that could preferably work with the others already in Mist Squad because Mist Squad claimed the best Mists in the Mist Division of the Varia bar the Mist Officer, the Acrobaleno Mammon. Finding that replacement required surreptitious testing so that the chosen person's skills were not only up par but that she was sure they could behave if left alone for a few minutes. The Mist Squad rarely had a reason to be deployed outside of major operations –which hadn't happened since shortly after Massimo died– but as Mist Squad Leader it was her job to find an appropriate replacement since the retiree's original choice for a replacement had just been forced to retire himself due to injury; a bad one, as it happened on one of those rare missions where the risks weren't properly assessed prior to it being accepted: the situation changed and the mission went crazy. An amputation would have been easy to fix for a Mist –her little apprentice was missing most of a leg after all– but severe nerve damage due to what would have been a fatal electric discharge in anybody not of Varia Quality was more problematic.

That the mission was completed anyway went unsaid, but not without severe costs as the mission really should have been turned down; when the Varia didn't accept an 'impossible' mission, what the Varia really _meant_ was less that they couldn't do it but more about that they didn't care for the cost of doing it. A dead assassin couldn't earn the Varia money and neither could most maimed ones, even with Squalo's scientist friend Vezzini who did wonders with prosthetic replacements at rock-bottom prices, provided they kept him up to date with how the prototypes performed. As the pay earned for a screw-up was just for that one mission when that same assassin could have otherwise carried out at least a mission a month for the next few years... it just wasn't worth it from a business perspective and the Varia operated in a very cut-throat business environment.

"What is it, my darling minion and favourite ghoul?" She purred, taking the interruption as a break and setting her pen aside.

"That madman of ours has been more distracted than the norm lately. Is he as well as he could be?" Ghul asked, referring to Maínomai.

There were all sorts of answers she could give to that, but misleading if true ones were the most fun! "It's a Family thing," she purred in Italian, because in a lot of ways it was! Maínomai had recently been adopted by the Lanzas, and the Lanzas had got a wonderful two-for-one deal there as the pretty Mist came with an over-protective Cloud. Plus there was no way her little kohai was abandoning his gorgeous daughter like that! Kuchisake had visited with Mab a few times and knew that little Serena had her father's devastating smile. Add in that _interesting_ Curse and some repeated trips to Romania because he was visiting relatives to see how well the Curse was dissipating without a focus... well, it was a delightful fiction she didn't want to break, especially since at six months old her kohai's daughter was nowhere _near_ old enough to defend herself. Never mind that Maria-Chiara Vongola was an over-protective grandmother and _not_ the sort of enemy any sane Varia cared to make…

"That Curse then?" Ghul asked, brow furrowing.

"There are rumours going around suggesting that he's sick as a dog, while some suggest that he's sending an illusion out to do his work. He is like an impostor of himself. More lost in his head then ever and all the more dangerous for it, going by his Naming; the moments he is as sharp as a tack are as unnerving as they are unexpected after the daydreaming." Raas added.

"Those who dream while awake are always more dangerous," she told the pair of them, distorting the meaning of the quote as the new meaning very much applied to the new father. "Also: Pýř," Kuchisake added; it was an entire argument in itself that should tell Raas and Ghul all they needed to know even if that information didn't make it out of the Mist Division. Pýř was the only Cloud that the Mist Division had 'adopted' when the Cloud Division split according to whether they were for or against Ottabio, so he was considered odd by those with strong mafia ties because Pýř was clearly happy to be surrounded by Mists instead of trying to kill them all out of frustration at their antics. "Any other news?"

"There's a betting pool concerning the identity of the faerie queen's Prince Consort." Ghul contributed.

"Old news," Kuchisake dismissed that as. She had missed the house-party where Mab discovered that she was expecting, due to being out of the country, but Kuchisake had found out a day or so after getting back in with her squad. She had also missed Wanhope playing peek-a-boo, and considering Wanhope's usual state, _that_ was nothing less than a miracle! Therefore Kuchisake had known of the pregnancy before Mab had started showing and that Fuseau was the father, but since the number of people who knew that Mab and Fuseau had been together for years could be counted on two hands... the betting pool was expected.

"Joia's making dango to celebrate Hoax earning his Name?" Raas suggested; there was something in his tone that said Joia might have needed to be persuaded to make the dango, but…

"Dango!" She cheered before remembering the paperwork, as it needed to be done since it had piled up while she was out. "But paperwork. Oh, Ghul, can you abduct my little apprentice for me and Raas, bring Joia and the dango. I'll get the tea and then we can have a little celebration! Not here, but somewhere else. One of the viewing rooms? Twenty minutes tops."

Ghul gave her a sceptical look. "Will we be fortunate enough dogs to get scraps?"

"Fine," She pouted like a sulking teenager, "I won't eat it all. It's not like I don't have paperwork to finish prior to joining you guys."

"I'll pick out a movie." Raas said, claiming movie-privileges before she could do offer one of her horror movies.

"Good luck slaying the ink-stained paper hydra without resorting to traditional methods," Ghul said in lieu of a goodbye, Raas leaving the office following his friend.

A few moments later Kuchisake had water in the kettle heating, as well as the cups and tea caddy assembled for when Raas, Ghul, Joia and Hoax were set up; she could take the tea over later, so as not to get accused of eating all the dango. Disregarding anything vaguely 'ladylike' she leaned backwards in her office chair and made several rude hand gestures at the skeleton then repeated them towards the floating eyeballs. A stretch later Kuchisake was back filling out the paperwork and waiting for dango.

She did have a plethora of plots to plan out too, so the movie would give her thinking time. Starting with how best to ambush Maínomai to get him to stop thinking baby-thoughts while on missions; plus how to get back at her apprentice for his not telling her first that he had finally earned the name that had already been picked out for him by the Captain? Such an amusingly accurate name it was too…

And, as she made a face at the next report she read, maybe she could finally get Mantis to do something Stupid like challenge her to a duel for a position within Mist Squad? The Varia was far more teamwork-oriented an organisation than they were perceived to be and Mantis was not well-liked. So far no-one had killed him yet, but it looked increasingly likely that someone would have to do so as his attitude and behaviour hadn't changed, even with considerable 'encouragement' from other Varia. Not very smart of him, really. Even so, she refused to let Mantis' antics ruin her mood because soon she'll have dango!

* * *

Maínomai had no idea why Kuchisake had assigned Mantis to his and Pýř's mission other than to get the troublesome Curse-specialist out of the Varia before someone killed him; since Hoz had that electrical-net issue, he had reluctantly but sensibly retired to the Curse Division of Housekeeping. Since Nevada of Mist Squad would also be retiring soon and Hoz had been Nevada's chosen replacement as _the_ Curse-specialist of Mist Squad, it meant that Mantis was likely to get a spot on that Squad and knew it.

This translated in the far-from-pleasant Mist being even worse than normal. It wasn't quite arrogance as despite making Varia, there were people better at Curses than he was; Mab was and remained prodigious with them and Nevada had been her student and replacement when she retired. Nevada was now past thirty and planning to open a casino as a way to launder money for the Varia and as a tribute to his Las Vegas roots. Hoz had been nearly Nevada's equal when he was forced to retire and technically still was –it was the nerves in his hands and arms that were damaged not his mind– so Mantis wasn't the best and knew better than to think he was. So it wasn't arrogance that had Maínomai gritting his teeth throughout the mission –the very un-fun, miserable mission that was of the sort that caused Maínomai to lose another little bit of his faith in humanity– so much as Mantis's smug assurance that things would work out for him regardless.

Mantis was an unrepentant sadist who specialised in pain-Curses and didn't seem to have ever understood the notice that he shouldn't torment his co-workers and the apprentices once they were in the mook-pool and out of Tyrant's protection. Maínomai knew that Mantis had been served the notice to improve his personality and behaviour more than once and not just from Maínomai; when Glace had told him about a year back that Mantis had reduced one of his new Rains to tears it meant Glace needed it to be fixed but recognised that he didn't have what it took to make it stick. So Glace had passed the revenge to Maínomai who had enjoyed it. Mantis also didn't seem to understand that while he didn't _have_ to make friends within the Varia, he really shouldn't make enemies because one day someone would kill him.

In theory that would be hard because Mantis wasn't being considered for the Mist Squad out of luck, but in practice it was much easier because if one Varia Quality assassin managed to surprise another, the assassin with the element of surprise was the one most likely to win. Fantasising about murdering Mantis was however not what the mission was about, no matter how much more fun than the mission it was, so Maínomai tried to concentrate on what they were being paid to do and to ignore his least favourite colleague.

It wasn't easy; partly because it was a depressing mission but mostly because it was May and Serena was now almost six months old and was already sitting up on her own _and_ starting to attempt crawling! His little girl was so advanced for her age and doing new things every day and he was _missing_ it! It wasn't fair! But it was fair really because he was Varia and had a job to do so he had to be where he was, plotting the messy death of some minor Don's mother and said mother's toy-boy because the Don's father had very stupidly stipulated in his will that his wife should be allowed full access to the Family's financial resources and the supposedly grieving widow was spending money like water, mainly on fancy hotels, shopping sprees and ridiculously priced alcohol while touring Spain with the aforementioned toy-boy.

The widow was in her late fifties and not aging very well and the toy-boy was in his mid-twenties and according to the file Information had put together had been the woman's 'bit on the side' for the past five years, well before her husband had died. Add in that the toy-boy was about six years younger than the Don who had commissioned the hit on his mother and well… it was ick. That the Don wanted the hit to be spectacularly messy made it ickier, but Maínomai could agree the guy had cause. So here he was, lurking on a balcony with Mantis while Pýř and Coo –an amusingly misnamed loaned Lightning whose purpose on the Squad was to ensure they could break up into two teams of two– set up a perimeter to keep civilians out of the way of the mess until the deed was done.

Had Serena come up with any new words yet? She was already calling Erica 'mama', addressed both him _and_ Pýř as 'paa!' and Amadeo as 'de'. She was also getting better at picking things up without dropping them and demonstrating a marked preference for certain toys, which was exciting because her personality was surfacing! She was growing as a person! And he was missing it!

"Earth to Maínomai," Mantis drawled, twirling his switchblade between his fingers.

Right. Mission. Messy. What to do… Alter their blood to boil at a much lower temperature? Alter their immune systems to develop an allergic reaction to air? Alter the air pressure in the room to nothing, making them both explosively decompress?

"I like the last one," Mantis offered, making Maínomai realise he'd been chuntering. That Mantis liked the idea made Maínomai like it less, but not doing it for that reason would be petty and needlessly antagonistic and altogether too like the sort of thing Mantis would do, so explosive decompression it was. That meant he first had to gradually increase the pressure in the room to about eight atmospheres, then abruptly Adjust it to a vacuum. To do that without being picked up on both victims needed to be distracted… which meant waiting for them to start having sex again. That would probably take a while, as they were just starting to eat the meal the hotel staff had delivered to their suite.

"Can you Curse them to feel acute nymphomania or something? They need to be distracted for me to do this without them noticing," Maínomai asked.

"It's properly called hypersexuality and yes," Mantis said, the smile on his face suggesting that both victims would find the experience unpleasant. Very distracting but not much fun; Mantis enjoyed seeing people in pain.

Three seconds later the wrinkly widow was sexually assaulting her toy-boy –who by the look on his face didn't want what was happening but found himself unable to move or resist– and Maínomai was able to set up an Alteration Field –which was not quite a Territory so much as a programmed and contained Alteration progression– in the hotel room they were hiding outside of on the balcony and start increasing the pressure. As both the room's occupants were breathing heavily the pressure within their bodies equalised with the room with minimal additional Adjustment; it took barely twenty minutes to reach the desired trigger point.

Then the room's internal pressure went from seven atmospheres to no atmospheres at all and both the widow and her toy-boy exploded messily all over the floor, walls and ceiling. The furniture did not, because Maínomai had specified that only the mammals in the room would be affected by the Alteration; the decorative plants were splattered but otherwise unharmed beyond the few leaves shredded by bone shrapnel.

"Mission complete," Maínomai sighed. Now they could go home and he could hopefully spend all day with Serena tomorrow. Her face always lit up when she saw him walk through the front door of the suite and maybe Erica would finally agree that their daughter was old enough to be taken up to the house for half a day without her mother. Amadeo could do with some mother-son time and Pýř would be there to guarantee responsible behaviour, so why not?

"You've been _awful_ distracted lately," Mantis said idly. "Only two things I've ever seen distract a man as much as you are were falling in love and becoming a father."

Maínomai's body froze but his brain had kicked into overdrive. Mantis knew and Mantis was the _last person_ who Maínomai was happy about knowing about his daughter and Mantis needed to _shut up_ right now –killing him would work–how to kill him– has to be quick –has to be quiet– Altering his sense of time while slowing his body's reaction time would work–

"You with a kid? Definitely a _bad_ idea; I mean _look_ at what it's doing to your professional performance," Mantis drawled on, a cruel smirk twisting his face as he leant against the railings. "They clearly need to be taken care of so–"

Maínomai _reacted_.

Two seconds later Maínomai was pondering his situation. On the one hand, the threat to Serena was eliminated. On the other, he now had the desiccated corpse of a co-worker leaning against the balcony railing next to him and needed to depart the area with the corpse before the murder he'd just committed was noticed. He also needed to come up with a way to get away with having mummified Mantis without bringing up the fact that Mantis had successfully divined the source of Maínomai's recent distraction.

Um…

He needed to stop being distracted so he could actually pay enough attention to not give such information away again somehow. Thankfully, Mantis' history of being Dumb –thus earning whatever punishment he got– meant Maínomai was fully justified in killing him when Mantis had finally crossed the line over to Stupid, which he most certainly had by threatening Serena. The Varia wasn't into empty threats, so he had taken it seriously. It also meant that people would _believe_ him when he said that Mantis had been Stupid, because Mantis had been flirting with the line between Dumb and Stupid for a long, long time.

Thus, Mantis's corpsification was not so unexpected and Maínomai would probably get away with it, provided he put the right things in his report. Hmm… Hey, he had a Famiglia now! He could say that Mantis had personally threatened a civilian member of his Famiglia, which was the truth and completely justifiable. Not citing the specific civilian's name was allowed too, in the interests of protecting them from future retribution from vengeful colleagues.

Maínomai stepped closer to Mantis's corpse; he'd not tried something like this before and the results were actually pretty interesting. Maybe he should experiment a bit? Maínomai wasn't allowed to Curse people dead, because back when Mab had taken him under her wing when he was a rookie Varia he had caused nothing short of widespread disasters with them; hence why Mab eventually said his perception was Distorted and thus why Alteration was a better use for his talents, because being specific constrained the destruction into something more predictable and useful. This meant Maínomai hadn't Cursed Mantis dead; instead he'd used an Alteration to distort Mantis' sense of time and another to draw all moisture out of his body, which had left Maínomai with a mummy. A dried out corpse so he had the basics but not really a mummy in the traditional Egyptian fashion; in those the organs were removed before the corpse was dried out and embalmed.

It also meant he now had a corpse to dispose of. Well, he could always give it to Kuchisake who'd enjoy it, but a few more Alterations would be required to preserve the corpse so it wasn't eaten by bacteria or something. Getting it back to Italy would be tricky, but with Alterations to preserve it, reinforce it and give it some flexibility he could control it like a puppet pretty easily, so it could sit with them on the plane as a passenger. A few superficial illusions to hide the shrivelled deadness and they were set.

* * *

Giving the Mantis-mummy to Kuchisake was a much better idea in theory than practice. Pýř, the meanie, was making him carry the Mantis-mummy to Kuchisake to explain the situation while he dealt with the paperwork; Pýř had at least approved his official reasons for offing Mantis, so he probably wasn't going to get in trouble. Someone should have stealthily offed Mantis sooner so Maínomai wouldn't now have to carry the mummy through the castle, which drew all sorts of notice. Maínomai was not the 'bring home the corpse' type, so his doing so was attracting all sorts of attention from people he'd rather not have staring at him. Also a number of cheers and appraising nods, which was both appreciated and unnerving.

Were they cheering that Mantis was dead, that Maínomai had done it, that Maínomai was bringing back the body to serve as an abject lesson for future Dumb Varia or that Maínomai was now a member of the 'brings home corpses' club which definitely existed and was made up of really creepy people?

So he had a rather large and varied audience by the time he reached Kuchisake's office, which was good and bad. Good because they'd soon know why Mantis became a mummy and get the news out but seriously bad because the bigger the audience the more inclined to act up Kuchisake became. Over ten people made this certain and nearly twenty meant whatever she did would either set gossip stirring for months or lead to mass repression; the only question was how. Maínomai was privately hoping for mass repression; that way suffering would be equally shared by him and the audience.

Kuchisake skipped up the hall towards the crowd in front of her office as Maínomai paused outside the door, her hair free and wild with a disturbingly sweet smile on her face; the side that wasn't maimed and stitched up. She wasn't laughing yet, so there went any hope of not being a victim of a Kuchisake-plot, because he was pretty sure that it had already happened: Kuchisake did not like Mantis and would not have wanted him in Mist Squad which she led, so her setting things up so that somebody else killed Mantis for her would not be out of the question. Maínomai had clearly been tapped as fall guy and was only now realising it, but Pýř had to have suspected that already and Maínomai really needed to come up with some form of revenge for this cruel abandonment!

It was only after a few moments of quiet inspection of the desiccated corpse leaning against the wall that Kuchisake laughed one of those soul-chilling laughs that ended with giggles and made a person's skin attempt to crawl off their body.

"It's a present! A present! It's not even my birthday and it's a wonderful present!" There was another laugh as she pirouetted, this one more a dark throaty chuckle that spelled Doom to any hope of getting out of this without significant personal embarrassment. Probably teasing; Kuchisake liked teasing and even teased the Captain, although the Rain Officer was getting better at not blushing lately.

Maínomai was therefore completely surprised that she kissed him –he had expected something more innocent like a hug and suggestive whispers– and was further surprised she slipped some tongue in and completely dominated the kiss. He was so surprised that he froze: what– how– why– where?

Kuchisake broke the kiss loudly and he noted with some horror that she licked her lips and smiled coyly at him. Then she purred, "I hope this wasn't a courting gift. I love it –I really do– but there's just no chemistry between us like that. Such a shame, you really _are_ pretty." Leaning in to hug him, she turned to whisper in his ear, "Come to my office later. Official business."

Then she grabbed the Mantis-mummy and bolted into her office, leaving Maínomai stunned and gaping as the audience dispersed, chattering amongst themselves and determined to spread the gossip as widely and quickly as possible. What was that all about? Courting? Well, at least if Mantis' death was due to her plotting he didn't have to explain it beyond what he'd put in his report.

But, what was... stop. He needed a shower. Carting a mummy around was not fun and standing under running water would help him think.

* * *

Maínomai emerged from the shower to find Pýř sat on the window seat, knitting. Pýř never took his knitting with him when they had missions with Mantis, claiming that the temptation to stab the sadistic Mist with one of the needles would be too great to resist, so it wasn't so surprising that his partner was catching up now. Then Pýř opened his mouth:

"So, what's this I hear about you having a crush on Kuchisake?"

Maínomai opened his mouth, paused, groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I was set up!" He wailed, slightly muffled by his hands.

Pýř snorted. "Yes, you were. And you didn't notice. There've been really strange rumours going around lately concerning your distractedness; everything from you being ill to bunking off missions and sending a Mist-clone along in your place. Your being madly infatuated with the Mist Squad Leader is one of the more believable ones."

Maínomai let his hands drop so he could glare at his partner. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I did; several times," Pýř retorted flatly. "It is not my fault that you wander off into la-la-land again barely two minutes after I bring you back down to earth."

Maínomai stuck his tongue out at the irritating Cloud –why did he always have to be right– then went back to grabbing a new set of clothes. The new Varia uniform –which was a white leather jacket with black trousers, all cut to look like formalwear– plus a black shirt and underwear… where had his socks gotten to?

"Okay, fine; I need to not think about Serena on missions," Maínomai grumbled and he knelt down to dig through his drawers. "Like that's _easy_ ; maybe a minor Alteration to keep that line of thought in the background? Mental triggers to remind me that I'm working? Hmm… ah, socks!"

"It was clear some kind of intervention was needed. As Kuchisake hasn't handed off all her GM duties to Raas yet, your distraction on missions became her problem due to how many other Varia we actually work with." A beat of silence. "That she managed to avoid any mention of Serena in her 'solution' means she was being careful and considerate in her plot so you may owe her more than just some thanks."

"Er, right. Definitely owe her for that but well, the solution is just..." Maínomai paused looking for words.

"It worked. Tidily enough that no one's going to investigate except to tease you and they won't take that too far in case I take offense. Kuchisake will stonewall any inquiries on her end and has already 'rejected' you so that's the gossip now since there's an explanation that makes sense and is somewhat more coherent than the others that were going around. Taking the shower was nice touch." Pýř smiled at that.

Maínomai stiffened as he realised that he had just seemingly sulked in the shower like an overdramatic teenager crying after a crush became well, crushing. "I just wanted clean up after carrying Mantis' corpse around. Not that." He pouted, thinking ferociously about it all to figure out and finalise some solutions to his recent Serena-fixation.

"I'll point that out," Pýř said, _knowing_ that that explanation wouldn't be believed. At _all_. His friend was being mean and had most certainly earned a suitable revenge. "Thankfully having an actual crush on Kuchisake is considered to be that distracting since Kuchisake is Kuchisake."

The Mist sighed, as he had to agree that _actually_ having a crush on Kuchisake was proven to be significantly distracting; a number of past apprentices and mooks had gained one on the rare occasions she didn't dress or act creepy, which generally lasted until they realised who she was and were shocked out of it. Some however remained infatuated for some time beyond that and usually died due to it. A Maínomai who was crushing on Kuchisake would know that, having been Varia for years, and know that his 'crush' was pretty much doomed as it was generally believed that Kuchisake's one true love was horror; what was also pretty well-known was that Kuchisake abhorred romance so at best there might have been a friends-with-benefits thing. It was just... Maínomai knew a whole lot of other things about the Mist Squad Leader, such as that Kuchisake loved many things from Asia beyond horror movies and that she actually adored Princess Bride, things he knew because she was a friend. Most people were too easily scared away to stay around her for long, so...

"I owe her." He said, pulling on the last of his clean uniform. "Pretty big too. She didn't have to go that far."

"Just remember that and it's not like she didn't benefit either, beyond her new piece of macabre office furnishing. Mantis is gone so no more dealing with him or his issues, there's now a solid Squad with a slot open for a Mist that used to be Mantis's and her little apprentice was promoted to Varia not long ago. Plus she fixed the problems you were having too and got to have fun with it while keeping secrets secret."

"That's one hell of a plot." Maínomai said in admiration. "Simple but..."

"Kuchisake didn't get her positions by accident. Now that she's handing off the GM position more officially -or will be- to Raas, she'll have more time to plot and meddle."

Maínomai paled as he realised what that meant for the Varia; they were Doomed with a capital 'D'. Everyone was Doomed. Kuchisake was bad enough when pressed for time between missions, personal training, training her apprentice, her official duties and her hobbies. The idea of what Kuchisake could do with free time and unofficial official permission to meddle was a nightmare.

* * *

Maínomai wasn't sure how he managed to reach Kuchisake's office more or less unaccosted; possibly because they were too busy spreading gossip to track him down and ask questions themselves? Whatever the reason was, he was rather grateful for it.

Seeing Kuchisake serious behind her desk was not a good sign. The Varia wasn't much for official reprimands as the unofficial ones either worked or the person was killed sooner or later so he wasn't sure what this was for. He didn't even have a chair to sit in either; the two 'decorative' chairs hosted two corpses in the form of the Mantis-mummy and the unknown skeleton. The skeleton in the corner where it had been since Kuchisake became Mist Squad Leader and the mummy was in the chair that was normally unoccupied by the bookshelf and generally used by visitors. Maínomai therefore had to stand, feeling rather like he was back in high school being told off for messing about by his head teacher.

"So, when did you last _check_ the Rankings, Maínomai?" Kuchisake inquired archly, tapping her fingertips together as she leaned forwards in her chair.

"With Raas and Ghul, after they got named," Maínomai said promptly. That hadn't been too long ago… had it?

"So… three years ago." Kuchisake's lips twitched in genuine amusement. "Well before you got un-Cursed and started retraining."

It had really been three years? Where had all the time _gone_? And yes, Maínomai was now feeling a _leetle_ bit silly because put like that, of course he should have checked the Rankings after the Curse had been removed, and again once the damage had been healed. But he hadn't; he'd been too busy training and visiting Serena.

"It can't have changed that much, can it?"

"You know, I met Ranking Fuuta not too long ago. I was ranked as the creepiest member of the mafia by him." Kuchisake said, seemingly at random.

"Congratulations?" Maínomai responded, not sure where she was leading this to beyond the rankings being important somehow. He knew he had improved so it wasn't like his ranking had gone down; he had scraped into where he was by having large reserves and a lot of useful knowledge. Hoax was one of the most powerful recent recruits although Maínomai wasn't sure where Hoax ranked within the Division. Not checking recently meant that he didn't know where most of the newbies stood; that wasn't good.

"I asked him to rank the top ten creepiest members of the mafia as an exercise and asked him how his rankings worked. The kid's cute and naive, but he's only seven so he's a brat and has no idea how his powers really work. He said he could only rank people he's met but Boss was on that list."

"There's no way they've met." Because Boss was on ice and there was no way Don Vongola would have let a little kid meet Xanxus as he was five years ago before being frozen, let alone 'introduce' him to the Boss-cicle in the basement afterwards.

"Exactly. Fuuta also used my codename instead of my real name and Boss was down as Xanxus without even a surname referenced. So the kid has no idea how his powers work, to what degree or on what criteria and because that's not Flames he's using, no one else has a clue either. He's got some potential but it's rather weak; enough for some Mist-tricks once he's older and Flame-active but nothing elaborate or intensive. So being the curious soul that I am, I looked a little deeper. Vahn's 'Aura Sight' makes for some interesting findings. That Fuuta kid is about as 'bright' as you and Bel so however he ranks things is actually using that unknown energy. He's got 'channels' for it, which I believe make it so it can be used because whatever it is doesn't work like Flames."

"So it's not just for Curses that could last millenniums." Maínomai said, feeling his interest perk up at that although he knew the original topic of conversation hadn't been dismissed yet; he knew Kuchisake too well to believe that and the subject was too serious for it to be shelved so easily. "I haven't experimented with that energy yet; not even to see if I could use it myself or if I'll have to Mist-trick it like I would if I wanted to do a Rain-trick. Been too busy with life, retraining and working on my non-primary Flames to experiment with something totally unknown; after all, I know nothing about it beyond the fact it makes for truly lasting Curses and since Mab's banned me from Curses, I can't really explore that dimension."

"Just so you know: it wasn't a whim that had me visiting Fuuta. I've been investigating with Aura Sight, sticking to unusual people and talents. The Giglio Nero Donnas are rumoured to be Seers but the current Donna wasn't very 'bright' to the Sight; that might be the Arcobaleno Curse though, as Mammon looks like he's under some kind of veil too. Don Vongola's rather dull too but Federico is 'brighter' if not by much. Fuuta however was, as were a few other people like Talbot. He's very bright too, complete with those 'channels', so his defences around his ranch are probably made of that somehow since it's not Flames even if I'm not sure how they work beyond misdirection of those who aren't invited and don't know exactly where he lives already. I wanted to investigate Knight and all those other interesting connections he has, but I've held off on that in regards to the Varia's deal with Knight's Lady; so I looked at that Clan of Zabini sword-smiths instead."

"Also 'bright'?" He hazarded.

Kuchisake smiled, which was answer enough. "The sword-smiths themselves didn't have 'channels' but a few of their neighbours did; those guys were able to bring up and use Wrath Flames even if they were otherwise Flame-Latent."

Maínomai had to wonder what Kuchisake had _done_ exactly to prompt some Zabini to throw Wrath Flames at her; knowing Kuchisake, it had probably involved zombies.

"I'm currently theorising that this unusual energy is probably hereditary," Kuchisake continued, "and that it tends to manifest in particular ways depending on the person and their relatives. So I expect that Serena will develop or has the potential to develop a unique ability like the Zabini Wrath Flames or Fuuta's Ranking once she's older as it seems a certain 'luminosity' is required for unusual gifts to be possible and these 'channels' to control them should they be of a more physical nature. Not all of the unusual abilities seem to require it though; the Vongola Hyper-Intuition for one doesn't seem to need a lot to function, although it probably works better in Skies since Maria-Chiara has more of a glow than her father or brother; Harmony bullshit at work there most likely, although I _do_ wonder how it would combine with Cloud Flames... Add in the lore research I've had to do due to the connection with the Greek gods and well, it's possible that all various gods, titans, mythical heroes and such all could possibly have had use of whatever this energy is, potentially in addition to Flames. It's really interesting right?"

"Yes, that sounds very interesting and disturbingly plausible. What of it? And what does it have to do with the Rankings?" Maínomai asked, mostly to get some thinking room. He knew his actual blood relatives were 'bright' to Aura Sight; he had worked with his tertiary Sun Flames to see if he could do something similar to what Cordial did for his younger brother and aunt. He hadn't been able to manage it then so he had Mist-tricked it instead. His aunt still had the necklace mark like a brand wrapped around her throat but the 'bruised' look to her Aura was gone and his little brother had been less damaged as well as less 'bright'. Maínomai wasn't sure about where all the members of his new Famiglia stood in that regard yet, but he hadn't met all of them either. The fact that Serena could potentially develop an 'ability' just meant she needed to know how to defend and otherwise take care of herself young, since these abilities seemed to be usable from a very young age and having a unique skill would make her a target. Plus there was no certainty that she would manifest something as obvious as Fuuta's Ranking or a unique Flame instead of taking after him in languages or something, but it would still be wise to prepare. What unique skills did _he_ have that might count?

"Anyway, until all the criteria and variables are accounted for in Fuuta's Rankings, the Varia is considering Fuuta's Rankings to less than perfect, inaccurate at best and lies at worst. Especially compared to Mammon's Rankings. The yearly update for all Divisions goes up in Quiet Week but as the Mist Division has the most people and number of different Flame-specialties, our Ranking is actually updated three times a year; what you don't know is how."

Maínomai could think of a few potential hows but Mammon didn't really use Alterations; some sort of Enchantment? No, too noticeable.

"Mammon is a Territory Master, and most of Mammon's work is Territory-derived." Kuchisake cut in, ending his mental rambling before it could really take off. "Mammon's maximum range for a Territory is estimated to be around the same range of his Esper abilities. Mammon never really worked out how big he could actually make a Territory but considering he can hold one around the Varia Estate to get all the details for the rankings without breathing hard and his Esper range shrank when he was turned into an Acrobaleno... there really was no reason for him to have ever created a Territory with an estimated 12 km radius."

"Sphere or circle?" Because for a circle the area was pi times the radius squared but a sphere was four times that...

"Sphere." She chirped and Maínomai felt faint while doing the calculations. That was a little over 1,800 km squared for surface area alone! Which being a Territory meant that Mammon could be 'god' of an area that large and all of the interior and spheres had the largest internal volume of all shapes; larger if the Territory was internally expanded. That really was deserving of being described as 'monstrous' and 'unreal'. Maínomai had known Mammon was powerful but pre-Curse Mammon's power dwarfed his current capabilities; no wonder Mammon wanted to break it so badly.

"That little nightmare-thought aside, Mammon generally keeps his Territory unnoticeable when he does this and thus our rankings are based on that criteria and math. In Flame Reserves alone you're within the top five, specifically number four. In breadth of applicable knowledge you're actually at number two now, which is admittedly bolstered a lot by your language skills. It was only your lack of fine control that had your rank so low a few years ago. The last Ranking in November had you within the top fifteen of the Mist Division and you've improved since, right?"

Maínomai had an idea of where this was going now. "Still training and fine-tuning stuff, but yeah, lots of room for improvement still." He admitted.

"Good. If you manage to make it within the top ten overall of the Division in Quiet Week you're in Mist Squad, taking Nevada's spot. This includes the various responsibilities that amount to not very much unless Mist Squad is actually being deployed, except for finding and training an apprentice or other Varia to eventually take your spot upon retirement from the Varia. It shouldn't be that hard for you to get into the top ten since you're currently known to be within the top fifteen overall and that information is several months old. So get to looking and congratulations on your promotion. Nice to work with you, welcome to the Squad."

"Wha? How was? Fine-control but..." Maínomai tried to wrap his head around the fact he was all but promoted officially; that wouldn't happen until Nevada retired, which did not seem to be very far off. "How was my ranking within the Division so low then?"

Kuchisake giggled and not one of the creepy ones; it was one that said she was having serious trouble keeping a straight face. "That's right. You guys only see the composite scores, not every individual aspect of the criteria. Fine-control refers to not only control of Flame but mission-behaviour and associated incidents, most of which are modifiers to the Flame-control score hence why it's fine-control not Flame-control; they generally equal out so aren't worth much but some like Mantis get markedly lower-scores because of it. As this is the Varia the scale is set high so a very controlled Flame from the average mafia-Mist can still get a low mark. Your recent bout of distraction has cost you because it's noticeable but the modifiers aren't as severe as your previous Curse-related incidents had so there're no negative points to cancel out. Add on your improvements to the Flame-control score due to improvements in the various specialties outside of Alteration, and well it's made a huge difference."

Because yeah, Maínomai could see how a five hundred percent increase in his Territory capabilities would send that score up way higher all by itself; that it was further bolstered through improvements to Conjuration and other Mist-specialties more so but... "Negative points?" He asked curiously.

"Subtract from the positive by that amount, which does scores no favours at all, especially if it creates zeros that are averaged into the overall score. So stay focused and you should make the top ten by June, which means you need to inform Pýř of your promotion, the eventual apprentice you will have to take on and a side-project for Mammon that you will be working on with me."

"What side-project?"

"Did you think that after Mammon heard about your Curse that Mammon wasn't interested in whatever energy it was that made a Curse last for so long? One that couldn't be broken by Mist Flames from a specialist in the field with decades of experience?" Kuchisake shook her head at him pityingly.

"Oh, so he wants to see if we can figure out what this energy is, how to use it and if it can do things that Flames can't. Like break the Acrobaleno Curse." Which depending on how much legwork the 'research' involved could eat up a lot of time, not to mention borrowing one of the Storm Flame training-rooms for testing purposes and other details in addition to the Varia's demands on his time and Serena, the Lanzas... "I suppose it's a good thing that mine and Pýř's mission schedules have already been adjusted because of other issues. I'll help."

"Good. Mammon's paying us for every breakthrough on this, so do you have any idea of why the Cavallone horses show up bright on Aura Sight?"

"Mammon's paying?" Maínomai repeated, feeling abruptly discombobulated; when had the universe ceased to respect reality? "Paying? Are we talking about the same Mammon here?" Horses with auras was weid but not so much as Mammon _paying_ for something.

"Mammon _really_ wants to get rid of that Curse." Kuchisake purred gleefully, practically bouncing in her chair. "But that's for a later date. Now I've got dango to eat, once I can convince Joia to make some for me as a way to celebrate Mantis' demise and an end to the headaches he caused. You've got Pýř to inform about your pending promotion, additional responsibilities and other people to celebrate with before you're too busy to actually do that. Also, wet hair, shower? Nice touch. Very believable."

"I've never regretted a shower more," Maínomai informed her with as much aplomb as he could muster.

Kuchisake just laughed and waved him out of her office.

After walking out the door Maínomai looked at the small cluster of assassins that were loitering in the hall and trying to pretend that they weren't attempting to eavesdrop shamelessly for gossip and failing at it. He sighed; there was a reason that of all the things that the Varia was accused of maturity generally didn't make it to any of the lists.

Maínomai then decided that a little out of character behaviour was needed in reaction to his 'suit' being rejected. A few moments of plotting and yeah, a miserable week for them ought to do it. He smiled; he'd wanted to try this since reading that French comic book about the Gauls where the Bard's singing made it rain indoors…

* * *

Translations

Hoz = sickle (Spanish); also 'to carry' (Hungarian)

Nevada = snowfall (Spanish, Portuguese)

Coo = cow (Scots); also dog, cur (Manx) and the sound made by pigeons (English).

Mantis is named for the praying mantis insect, due to the enjoyment he takes in ripping people apart both literally and metaphorically.


	7. A Very Varia Vacation 1

Co-written with the clever Insane Scriptist.

This is just the first half, since what was going to be a short epilogue tuned into a massive monster of more than 20k words. Going on holiday is clearly no less challenging for professional assassins than it is for normal people...

This chapter fits in during and after chapter 107 of Black Sky.

* * *

 **A Very Varia Vacation**

Quiet Week was very embarrassing for Maínomai because it turned out he was now not just in the top ten in Mist Squad, but he'd somehow got into the top five. Specifically he was at number four, pushing Fuseau down to number five and kicking Nevada down to number six. This was less bad than it might be since Nevada had promptly announced that he was now retired, but it was still embarrassing because being admitted into Mist Squad was all tied up in Maínomai's mind with his supposed 'crush' on Kuchisake and his ignorance of his meteoric rise in standing in the Division Rankings. Then there was Pýř's explicit amusement at his plight, Erica's smug pleasure at his achievements and the still-confusing issue involving Mammon being willing to _pay_ for something…

Maínomai was feeling a strong need for a break, but was prepared to settle for a mission; preferably a long, slow mission with low risks and high intelligence requirements. Maybe with Ghul, who was his preliminary choice of 'apprentice who may eventually succeed me in Mist Squad when I retire', due to the gothic and elliptical assassin being the only other Alteration specialist currently in the Varia. The Varia really needed more Alteration specialists because he and Ghul specialised in completely different areas; Ghul focused on bodily Alterations to himself and to others but Maínomai worked more on an abstract level. Sure, bodily Alterations was something that he was proficient in for patching issues with Pýř's eyes –among other things– but it really wasn't his specialty.

Ghul had of course grumbled about his not-a-promotion, citing 'Hobson's choice' and 'Catch 22', which had taken Maínomai a few minutes to unravel the meaning of. Raas had of course found his best friend's plight hilarious, then dropped the bomb that he was already Mammon's apprentice and had been for nearly two years. Ghul had promptly thrown a glass of something Altered at Raas while snarling in fury as said so-called friend fled laughing.

Then there was Vahn, who had recently decided he was Maínomai's friend and had taken to spending time with him and talking about various Aura-related things. Not that Maínomai didn't get along reasonably well with Vahn, but the other Mist's recent re-specialisation had prompted Kuchisake to decide to switch the Squads around in light of recent discoveries, so Maínomai and Pýř's Squad was likely to stop being a two-man Squad very shortly since Maínomai's curse was no longer an issue. Vahn and Ghul were both candidates for joining what Kuchisake had dubbed 'Chaos Squad', as was –confusingly– Schöne, who had just made Varia and thus been given a proper name to replace her apprentice nickname of Doninha. Maínomai was understandably wary about anything involving something Kuchisake was doing; forming a Squad she had named counted as such and not just because he knew she'd have _plans_ for such a Squad.

So many changes and headache-inducing new problems had led to Maínomai being slumped face-down on Erica's sofa in her Vongola Suite, his face partly buried in a cushion as his best female friend rubbed his back and made sympathetic sounds in response to his admittedly-incoherent complaints. Amadeo was out with Antony on a godparent-and-child bonding activity of some kind and upon seeing Maínomai lurch into her suite Erica had instantly handed Serena off to Pýř and ordered the Cloud to 'go do something mean but amusing with your god-daughter,' so it was just the two of them.

Maínomai was certain that Pýř was having fun blowing off steam somewhere in the grounds while terrorising as many people as he could get away with, which significantly assuaged the guilt he was feeling over how his issues were making things more difficult for his Storm-Cloud friend. Pýř was very picky about who got to be 'his' and adding people to his Squad on a more permanent basis was bound to make the Cloud twitchy, but Maínomai not _wanting_ there to be new people in their Squad meant that Pýř would be torn between defending his Territory –Maínomai's person and wellbeing– and adding to his Territory, which was a natural thing for Clouds since they were as acquisitive as dragons and just as temperamental.

It was a recipe for disaster, which was why Maínomai had fled to Erica at the earliest possible moment since she was a wonderfully calming Rain and had a way of putting things in perspective for him. That she had instantly diffused Pýř's building irritation at not being able to _do_ anything by giving him something he _could_ do and an excuse to vent his spleen that he could get away with proved that she was Quality; hopefully she'd have a solution for Maínomai's own difficulties too.

"–and I know I've got to get better at working with a larger Squad since I'm on Mist Squad now, but that'll mean sharing secrets and I don't _want_ to!" Maínomai whined, twisting so he could look sideways up at his friend's face. "What do I _do_?" Unsaid was that he _had_ to deal with whatever the Officers and General Managers decided was best concerning Squads, so having a coping strategy in place when the inevitable happened would be vital. He and Pýř were long-time partners and worked best together, but while they had worked with and were friendly with a lot of other people –or at least _he_ was friendly– there were differences between working with others for a mission or three every so often and working with someone constantly; sharing work-secrets happened with the latter, which was one of the reasons he and Pýř worked so well together. They knew and trusted each other completely and it showed in their teamwork. How fluid it was, because they didn't have to think about it. They just did it, either together or apart with whoever else was assigned to them for the duration of however long it would be.

However Pýř wasn't part of Mist Squad and while it was unlikely that Mist Squad would be needed for something soon, there was no reason not to be prepared for Mist Squad actually being deployed; it also meant that he had to learn to work with others without Pýř nearby doing something else to insure the success of the mission. He had done it before, but that didn't mean he had to like it or deal with it for longer than a few days. He was friendly but that didn't make him naïve or trusting or willing to share various personal secrets, even work-related ones. Like exactly what he was capable of achieving with Alteration that focused on the abstract and concepts; Mammon would know –had to have known in order to accurately grade his capabilities– but that didn't mean he wanted to share that.

Erica reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, her other hand planted on his spine and supporting most of her weight. "You know, it's been _years_ since I last had a holiday," she said conversationally.

That was a non-sequitur of the highest order. Maínomai blinked in confusion; what did holidays have to do with anything?

"My last holiday was in the winter before my first pregnancy, back when I was fifteen," Erica went on idly, still playing with his hair. "Then I became pregnant and had Amadeo, which was followed by getting a position in the CEDEF; I may technically get a set quantity of 'holiday leave' but I spent all of it with Amadeo at the mansion or in the vicinity for security reasons. I've thus far spent all my maternity leave similarly confined and come September that's going to be over and I'll be back at work. So if I want a holiday I really need to fit it in as soon as possible. Preferably in the next month; August is a terrible time to take a holiday as everywhere is over-crowded."

"Um, okay?" Maínomai still wasn't sure where Erica was going with this but her reasoning did at least make sense. "July's pretty busy too you know, unless you pick somewhere well off the beaten track."

"I want to do something low-effort, but has plenty of opportunities for Amadeo to amuse himself," Erica said firmly. "Serena will be perfectly happy so long as there are toys to play with and people to dote on her, but Amadeo needs physical and mental stimulation. Somewhere rural or semi-rural would be best, so he can run around outdoors and get started on basic woodcraft: climbing trees, navigating by the sun and stars, setting safe fires, tracking and so on." Erica did not mention that learning such things were only important because Amadeo was close to the Vongola main line and therefore a kidnapping risk, so needed to be able to look after himself if the worst happened. Serena would run the same risk, and that was before whatever ability she had might manifest which could make her more of a target, but Serena wasn't old enough to learn how to protect or take care of herself yet.

"Of course, since I would be travelling with two small children and it is not exactly a secret that I am Uncle Federico's favourite niece, I would need to travel with a security detail," Erica went on, tugging gently on Maínomai's hair. "A _discreet_ security detail: no black suits or obvious mafia connections. People who could plausibly be a family group effectively protecting myself and my children, yet doing so without obviously curtailing our freedom."

Maínomai perked up, finally grasping the shape of her idea; he was clearly _very_ slow today. "It sounds to me like you need _Quality_ security," he ventured, possibilities swirling in his mind. "Who do you think would pay for such a thing?"

"I'm sure my uncle would if I phrased it right," Erica said easily. "Especially since it would get us out of the mansion for a few weeks and give him space to do various things I know he's been putting off so as to ensure Amadeo and I have one or more of his Guardians available when we go out on day-trips." She sighed. "It would also give him the time and space to really put the screws to Nono over all the things he's been turning a blind eye to, the ever-declining state of the CEDEF included."

"I take it things are pretty bad?" Maínomai asked cautiously. He knew they'd been bad before even after his modification to Iemitsu to curtail the drunken excesses, but... His friend had abruptly descended into moodiness with that last sentence, the exceedingly perilous Rainy moodiness that was often a prequel to metaphorical flash-floods and monsoons.

"I've been getting copies of Derecho, Joia and Senka's reports," Erica sighed. "What does it say about Iemitsu that Derecho has been impersonating me for months on end without using an iota of Mist Flames and _succeeding_?"

Maínomai's jaw dropped. "Er, really bad things?" he offered weakly; Derecho was over six feet tall, shaved bald, solidly muscled and black. Blatantly, obviously black with a very deep, slightly hoarse voice that was distinctly Darth Vader-ish. Considering Erica was about five foot three and reasonably fair-skinned with dark blonde hair, blue eyes and comfortably cuddly curves…

"Never mind that mental health report I had to comment on for the Rain Officer," Erica mumbled, wilting further.

"Mental health report?" Maínomai inquired delicately. That sounded _important_. Who was it on? No, wait, he knew who it had to be about but what had Iemitsu done to merit a psych evaluation? Better yet, why was Iemitsu still around if he was that... well, he couldn't accurately describe Iemitsu as delusional until he knew what the report said, which wouldn't take much investigation to find out or obtain a copy of. It would be in Information or soon would be, unlike the Varia's personal psych-stuff.

The Varia wasn't a beacon of sanity but at least they kept track of who had what and to what degree, with at least attempts at treatment or management with the occasional bit of therapy when wanted or required; it was how the Varia knew that Wanhope and anti-depressants did not mix _ever_ and what medication worked best for Maínomai's own ADHD, even if he didn't take it due to the side-effects interfering with all the travel that work required. Actual mental health issues were different from behavioural issues, which many of the Varia also had to some degree or another –often as coping strategies for other, more severe issues– but even then there were both informal and formal systems in place to monitor and keep those within an acceptable range; hence why Mantis wasn't killed earlier by someone else because Mantis hadn't gone past the 'acceptable' range, even if he regularly strayed too close to the line of what wasn't until he finally crossed it.

"Ask your Captain," his friend said shortly, slumping forwards to lie on his back with her head on his shoulder. "Or Federico; Uncle Fede would probably actually give you an answer rather than telling you to mind your own business."

Maínomai decided not to ask his friend when she'd got to know Squalo Superbi well enough to accurately predict his responses; it wasn't his business and the Captain had a sixth sense for people nosing around his personal life so it was safer not to go there. "So how do we sell the holiday idea?"

"I tell my uncle I want a holiday, he starts fretting about security, you suggest he hire Varia –thus making the whole thing 'proof' that he trusts the Independent Assassination Squad and that they're willing to follow his orders even when they're petty which looks good– and then he will agree and throw money," Erica predicted dryly. "He will then insist on getting your Squad, since this is supposed to be a _family_ holiday, and I am sure the Officers can come up with useful things you can do with your time whenever you're not supervising me and my children."

"So where do you want to go on holiday anyway?" Maínomai asked, feeling rather optimistic about this cunning scheme. The Varia had a very diverse client base that varied greatly depending on the location. Being in a country with a large base meant that they could either carry other missions out themselves without incurring more travel costs ,or provide back-up to another Squad, or even provide the Varia with in-depth information about local politics, criminal or otherwise. All of which were good things for the Varia.

"I was thinking the Black Forest," Erica said idly. "There are a load of very nice spa towns there, plus pretty countryside and an opportunity for Amadeo to improve his German. Total immersion is the best way to learn after all."

Maínomai was pretty sure he didn't give anything away, but on the inside his brain was screaming about vampires, werewolves and not wanting them _anywhere_ near his precious daughter. Other bits of his brain were pointing out that this was a never-to-be-repeated opportunity to extort money out of Mammon –making it suitable vengeance for having the Squad added to– and that Pýř would be all for it since his cousin lived around there somewhere.

Well it probably wasn't _that_ dangerous to be out and about if Pýř's cousin lived nearby; Pýř would be far touchier if it was actually dangerous for his cousin to live there, but his cousin was a grown woman familiar with the area and Serena was still a baby and Amadeo was still a child. He'd have to ask Pýř and then see what his friend thought. But it was an idea and really, he could get more comfortable with actually being part of a permanent Squad with a bit of time and space in a low-risk environment. That was probably the best way to convince Kuchisake to support the mission, since she had been researching for Mammon while her personal Squad kept the CEDEF from falling apart and the 'slow mission' would allow them to adjust to each other.

There would be settling in and out of routines as they figured out what worked best for them; from various chores and errands, to who did what, who wasn't allowed to do whatever, who got given surveillance and stake-out duties and even who had which watch, should a watch be required. Pýř preferred to get the first watch of the evening, much like Maínomai preferred taking a later watch because he didn't instinctively try to murder people for waking him up early and he was generally too sleepy to be focused during the first watch. Other things to consider and adjust to were various other personal habits, preferences and abilities; while he had worked with Ghul several times before, Vahn he surprisingly hadn't and Schöne was too new at being Varia to have had the chance to come campaigning previously. So really, there'd be adjustment and discovery all around… if those _were_ the people the Officers finally decided upon, because Kuchisake didn't have the power to finalise anything.

He kind of missed being a campaigner now; he wouldn't trade Serena for that but at least with him and Pýř as campaigners, they didn't have to have a full Squad and could move by themselves, in and out before anybody noticed a thing once they'd located their target. Another benefit was that due to being campaigners, their preferences in duties and such were always taken into account by the superior officer for this or that mission unless Pýř was in charge, which meant his friend got his way anyway. Even if as partners they frequently had people assigned to them for a mission, which meant who they worked with for a short time was in effect random. It was also easier to schedule missions as partners because the more people in the Squad, the greater the chance of having schedule conflicts for training time or other appointments or commitments, especially if a person was in multiple squads. That however was the Squad Leader's problem and occasionally the GM's but still something they had managed to avoid dealing with so far. Kuchisake was at least keeping Pýř as Squad Leader, so that would be his problem despite Maínomai being the one promoted to Mist Squad; Mist Squad was rarely called upon and nobody was breaking up their partnership.

"That'll work. Pýř and I could use the time to adjust to how things have changed." He told Erica. Because while he had been warned about his impending future Mist Squad requirements and had even started preparing for them as much as could be done, getting a change to his personal Squad was not something he had been expecting; Pýř hadn't expected it either. "Kuchisake's thinking about adding to mine and Pýř's partnership and filling that out to a permanent full-sized Squad, so there'll probably be some adjustments to deal with on everyone's part. Especially if someone is switched out later for whatever reason."

"So having time to settle would be a good thing?" Erica asked with a knowing and very Vongola look to her face.

"Yeah. Spending time with you and Serena will be good too. Plus Pýř could go visit his cousin. It feels a little unfair that he hasn't had much time to visit her or his other relatives because of what's happened in my life and yours as well. He's a very good friend." Maínomai admitted. "But we should probably see about rescuing the staff from him sometime soon. Pýř can be very mean." He added apologetically.

"How mean is very mean?" Erica questioned, with a certain sly look that suggested she knew _exactly_ what he meant but wanted him to say it. Or possibly that she had deliberately sent Pýř out to make certain unnamed people's lives difficult today.

"Well..." Maínomai stalled as he tried to think of the least excessively mean thing his friend had done out of sheer spite, instead of something belonging to the broad category of 'revenge', yet wasn't due to excessive 'irritation'. "I doubt that he's going to get his knives out and skin someone alive, but that doesn't mean he won't terrorise people silly and find it enjoyable enough that someone might complain to your mother while he's elsewhere."

* * *

Pýř sauntered confidently through the main corridors of the Vongola mansion, his nine-month-old goddaughter held in place against his chest with one arm as she gazed around with bright, curious eyes and firmly gripped the lapel of his jacket with one hand. Indulging Serena and making her laugh was doing an admirable job of soothing his irritation at his inability to do anything about having his Squad added to. He didn't _mind_ getting more people, exactly, but he didn't like not getting to choose who he'd be getting –Squad Leaders only got to pick replacements, not new additions– didn't like that their well-established team dynamic was getting messed with and _really_ didn't like that Maínomai was extremely unhappy about the changes.

It had taken Pýř a while to determine why exactly Maínomai was upset about all of this even though neither of them could do anything about it, which wasn't helping his temper. It wasn't just because his friend would eventually have to share information about the personal higher-level techniques that all Mists hoarded but because his partner was the one most likely to feel obliged to accommodate everyone else; professionalism worked but showing good cheer and friendliness made working together easier. Being that person was just part of Maínomai's nature.

It had taken some time, meeting Maínomai's relatives and some serious thought on Pýř's part to determine that Maínomai's distortion in understanding 'tragedy' wasn't limited to just him; it affected his brother and aunt too and had knock-on effects. Those just weren't as obvious as his partner's utter incomprehension of what was and wasn't a tragedy. Maybe it started as a defence mechanism due to the Curse, but none of that family focused on their own self unless prompted. They thought and prepared for the future as a unit. It was 'we' and 'for us' and 'for them' instead of 'I' and 'for myself' which wasn't as odd as it could have been, just difficult to notice unless you looked. It meant they had problems doing things for themselves for selfish reasons. They were nice because they didn't think on how to benefit as an individual instead of as a group. Not that they were incapable of acting for themselves, but it took prompting.

All that meant that his partner could be and often was blindsided by things directed solely at himself; however it didn't mean he wasn't able to predict or prepare for what could happen for 'them' or 'us'. Having people added to their Squad permanently meant changing that definition of 'us', at least in a work context, which meant altering various habits, finding out dislikes and likes and quirks so that the new Squad worked as smoothly as it could, considering it was going to be pretty much thrown together on Kuchisake's whimsy and calculations. So there was a list of candidates but there was no definite decision one way or another yet.

Maínomai was already adjusting to being Mist Squad, which was easier as he already knew them and had at least worked with them before, but Mist Squad rarely saw much action together unless there was an emergency which made it a temporary thing. This was a more permanent adjustment and more personal. It was completely not their decision and they had little way of knowing what the final choices were likely to be, so nothing really could be prepared for on their part which was what upset his friend the most; running probabilities of who would get assigned with who was possible but having no idea about the criteria meant it was an exercise in frustration that wouldn't be 'fixed' until their Squad was assigned.

What Pýř was angriest about however was that due to Ottabio being Officer, he had no way of protesting the changes. The Varia chain of command was such that, as a Cloud and a Squad Leader, the only way for him to object to changes in his Squad was to take it to his Officer or, failing that, his Boss. However Ottabio was a slimy rat who would use Pýř's legitimate concerns to push his own agenda and assign even more objectionable people to his Squad, then expect Pýř to owe him a favour. Údar, as GM of Cloud Squad, could raise objections and argue for changes but couldn't _insist_ on them. Údar was a decent sort and was coldly and firmly opposed to Ottabio and everything he stood for, so Pýř had made his displeasure at having his Squad doubled in size overnight known to his fellow Cloud, but he wasn't expecting miracles. Maybe a settling-in period with a few low-intensity missions but no more than that; they were all Varia Quality so they were expected to suck up and deal. Like the professionals they all were.

Erica's strongly worded suggestion that he take her goddaughter and go psychologically torture people until he felt better had been gratefully received; the Rain would get his partner's head screwed on straight and then they could actually make some proper plans to adjust to the changes.

So far Pýř had managed to diffuse some of his irritation by subtly burning away the wax polish from the surface of the hardwood floors he walked over, forcing the joints of tables, chairs and other furniture to swell so they fell apart into their component pieces –incidentally causing vases to smash on the hard floors and spill their contents all over the place– snarling toothily at everyone and anyone who looked him in the eye so they fled the vicinity in terror or froze in place until he moved on –one pathetic piece of trash had fainted dead away– and getting Serena to giggle through frivolous use of Multiplication on various things he'd picked up as he wandered about. Mostly flowers from vases that were later spilled across the ground after he left the room, with a few other items pickpocketed from terrified Vongola underlings for variety. Too much time spent covering up for his friend's kleptomania meant he was actually pretty good at that.

It was helping; he now felt more playful than homicidal. The gradually ratcheting tension all around him also helped; now it wasn't just his day that had been ruined.

"I have to ask you to not come this way, Signor Pýř."

Pýř stared blankly at the vaguely familiar face in front of him; where had he seen this particular member of staff before? Ah, this was Ottava's Accomplice; of course. "Why?" The Varia assassin demanded in Sicilian, shifting Serena in his grasp so as to be able to retaliate if necessary.

"Signor Federico is entertaining guests in this wing," the quiet footman replied evenly, posture relaxed and utterly open. This civilian was _confident_ that Pýř wouldn't slaughter him over this, which was pretty damn impressive really. Faith in his respect for the authority of the Head of Housekeeping or just sheer resolve, it was good to see.

"Where _can_ I go then?" Pýř relented; exposing Serena to outsiders would be irresponsible of him. He wasn't letting Accomplice off the hook for his impudence though; implicating him in the chaos being caused was vengeance enough, considering.

The younger man's eyes hooded and a muscle in his jaw twitched. "If you direct yourself to the first floor of the service wing, certain members of the mansion security team are kicking back in the third hall," the footman said, mild as milk with a faint, venomous undercurrent. "They are likely to be voicing opinions offensive to Signor Vongola's immediate family as they do so."

Meaning they were being crass and insulting Federico, Maria-Chiara or Xanxus, as they were the only people still living who counted as 'immediate family'. Pýř felt his spine stiffen at the prospect of _legitimate_ targets; so far he'd just been tormenting the staff, which while satisfying was rather petty and cruel. Doing violence to people for 'insulting the Family' and getting away with it sounded much more satisfying.

"Hold my goddaughter," Pýř ordered, handing over the little girl. Civilian or not, this man was trusted with private Vongola matters so Serena would be in good hands. Accomplice accepted the baby somewhat awkwardly, but quickly adjusted his grip and produced a colourful scrap of cloth from his pocket to distract her with. Thus entertained, Serena refrained from fussing and took to staring at her surroundings as the servant carrying her followed Pýř through the back passageways of the Vongola Mansion and into the service wing.

* * *

Erica could feel time slipping away from her. Her precious baby daughter was already halfway to being weaned and in the autumn she would be heading back to work in the CEDEF, all her time consumed by her duties to the Family and forcing her to neglect her own children. It was amusing but mostly sad that Maínomai hadn't put the pieces together yet or realised that come autumn, _he_ would be the most visible parent in their daughter's life. Amadeo had also taken to his sister's father, so Maínomai would soon be the primary parental figure in _his_ life too.

She wished it wasn't so, but the Family was slowly ripping itself apart despite her mother and Federico's best efforts. Her uncle was visibly cool with Nono, something that she could not determine the root of but had been going on for _months_ now. Possibly to do with Xanxus? It was nearly five years since he had been incarcerated and that her grandfather was _still_ refusing to let him out said a great many very displeasing things about him. Things like neglect, inability to sympathise, reactionary thinking and taking Family matters far too personally. Then there was the underlying issue: her grandfather's longstanding inability to deal with his relatives unless he invoked Family duties and traditions.

Erica did love her grandfather, but he was getting old and losing his edge. She could see it, her mother could see it, her uncle could see it and if they could, it was definitely visible to a lot of other people, both inside the Vongola and outside of it. His refusal to step down in favour of his capable and fully eligible son was a weakness, one that the enemies of the Famiglia were doubtless capitalising on already. Not only did it look bad for her grandfather, who had already outlived his two eldest sons and was the oldest Vongola Boss on record, but also for Federico; as though her grandfather didn't consider her uncle to be capable or trustworthy enough to rule the Vongola. The longer things were dragged out, the heavier the implications became and the more dubious the Famiglia became of Federico's suitability, making his job as Heir that much harder.

Then there was Iemitsu… Erica resolutely did _not_ think about that mental health report Derecho had eventually put in a request for, nor its results, as if she thought too deeply on it she would storm across to Palermo and murder her cousin-once-removed so he stopped inflicting himself on the Family. Bad enough that her grandfather was allowing the Vongola to stagnate and decay where it stood, but Iemitsu was actively _destroying_ it without even _noticing_ he was doing it!

"I'll ring for somebody to find Pýř and Serena then, shall I?" she asked Maínomai, twirling a lock of his ridiculously soft hair between her fingers. She wasn't actually worried for the staff as Pýř had a certain pride in himself that kept him from doing more than scaring those incapable of defending themselves from him –unless he was being paid to murder them– and the shake-up would give her uncle an excuse to end his meeting with Don Prizzi early. It was more of a family catch-up session than a proper meeting after all, what with Giovanni Prizzi being the grandson of one of Ottava's sisters and thus her uncle's second cousin.

"That's probably a good idea," Maínomai agreed, fingers twitching nervously. Her poor friend looked like he was imagining a gory scene of slaughter, complete with blood on the ceiling and Flame-gouged scorch marks on the walls.

Erica rolled off the sofa and walked across the room to ring for a footman; the sheer promptness of the quiet knock on the door was actually a bit disconcerting. Had she misjudged Pýř?

Opening the door revealed not a footman, but one of the butlers. Not Egregio, the butler responsible for greeting guests and seeing to their comfort, or Orazio, who was responsible for keeping Don Nono in the manner to which he was accustomed, but Demetrio. Demetrio who kept order among the various lower-ranking Mafiosi and civilians who worked in and around the service wing and made sure they were all behaving themselves.

"Signorina Erica," the greying major-domo said placidly, "there has been a situation in the Service Wing involving your guest."

Nobody had died then; a 'situation' implied violence but nothing fatal or irreversible. "My daughter is well?"

"Torretta has been entertaining her." Her great-grandmother's attendant; the young man to whom her mother had assigned additional financial benefits to for 'bond bereavement'. Despite Stefano being Flame-Latent and a civilian, he'd been Rainy enough to form a thread-thin Guardian bond with her great-grandmother. Not that anybody had _told_ him that –he was after all a _civilian_ – but he'd been provided with a lot of leave, as much emotional support as could be managed without giving any Mafia secrets away, a better-paid position in the mansion and a generous lump sum had been set aside for when he inevitably decided to leave. Erica was grateful beyond words for how he'd brightened her great-grandmother's final years and her mother was already taking steps to ensure that once he _did_ leave, nobody would be able to prove he'd ever worked for the Vongola. It was the least they could do for him. Currently he was keeping the peace in Federico's staff, but he wasn't likely to be willing to stay there for long, not after losing his Sky no matter how tenuous the bond.

"Could you ask Pýř to bring my daughter back and have Torretta bring a tea tray?" Erica asked. That would get Pýř out from under the butler's feet and away from whoever he was traumatising –although the subtext suggested that whoever it was had it coming as she wasn't being asked to stop it– and give her an opportunity to thank Torretta for keeping things civil.

"I will do, Signorina," Demetrio said with a bow, turning and vanishing down a side-passage.

"Is everything okay?" Maínomai asked from right behind her.

"Everything's fine," Erica assured him with a smile. "Whoever he found to take out his frustrations on apparently deserved it, so Demetrio will make sure the complaints don't get anywhere," she paused; "would you like biscuits or cake with your tea?"

"Cake!"

"Very well then; cake it is."

* * *

Pýř was not in a much better mood after inflicting some violence. He was however disgusted rather than tense with sheer frustration. The off-duty security staff had likely learned their lesson but if not, Pýř would be happy to repeat it for them another time. It was rare that he managed to acquire targets for his temper. He'd only terrified them a bit, which was nothing compared to what he was capable of. He'd also managed to keep things neat so that only a little bit of blood was spilled externally. None had even gotten on the furniture, just the idiot's clothing. A busted lip wasn't even worth commenting on in Mafia circumstances and there was no major damage to the room either; a tipped-over couch and a few other odds and ends out of place. Six people groaning in pain –two of whom were crying– wasn't that serious considering how Stupid they were being.

He couldn't quite copy the trick that the General Managers of the Sun Division used, but he _could_ achieve a close approximation of it. Tenaz and Khon split the General Manager's duties for the Sun Division and were rightfully brutal in keeping order among the Suns and Varia Medical. Both Suns had a Storm Flame secondary and left 'sparks' of Storm Flames in those they hit, which would be agitated by Sun Flames if the victim sought out healing; the 'activation' property at work would cause those 'sparks' to 'flare', causing further damage. So it was best to let injuries heal naturally if they were involved, which took some time and was assuredly painful even with painkillers; Khon broke bones almost as easily as he breathed and Tenaz was potentially even more lethal because he was more of a deep-tissue guy. Great for getting rid of kidney stones –in theory– but that didn't mean that the risk of death due to internal bleeding was something people wanted to think about.

Activation and Propagation weren't the same, but the underlying principle was still sound. He hadn't melted or dissolved anyone from the inside and no one had seen a hint of Flames, so the ache would be dismissed. Right up until it didn't fade over the next few days. While the security staff he'd beat up were unlikely to qualify for Sun Flame assisted healing, that didn't mean that they couldn't press for it and convince a medic to speed things up a touch.

He hoped that they _screamed_. If the Sun doing the healing didn't have really good control they might end up with permanent tissue scarring as well, which would serve them right.

Originally Pýř had just been going to toss them around a bit. It wouldn't have taken too long, would leave a strong impression and then he could have moved on. He'd been working his way down to sadistic amusement and rightfully ruining the off-duty team's week would have been fun enough to put him in a more contented mood. Not a good one, but one in which he was less likely to commit unpaid murder.

But he should have known that allowing the assumption of Erica having Serena as part of the 'unofficial skills acquisition' idea would have drawbacks. Namely those that were unaware that she was Maria-Chiara's daughter thought she was some type of whore. In short, he wasn't sure what sort of assumptions those idiots were working from but their information were faulty from the start and they were almost entirely ignorant of everything concerning people that were nominally responsible for protecting; they didn't even know who the people they were supposed to be protecting _were_. Idiots.

He had been very annoyed at them and that was before they had even brought up Xanxus. Pýř had been working on non-visual sensory techniques since he had been told that one day he would be blind. Therefore Pýř had been able to listen to that trash well before he was close enough for them to notice him. It hadn't made pleasant listening and that was before they started saying that they were glad Xanxus was dead; Pýř wasn't glad that Xanxus was frozen because if Boss had been out of the ice, then Ottabio wouldn't be a problem. Ottabio would be dead. If Xanxus had been dead then Squalo would have killed Ottabio anyway, because Squalo was Xanxus' Rain. No one with sense would really object to that but that didn't mean that the Cloud Division would settle easily under someone new; one of the two main reasons no Cloud had offed Ottabio yet, as the other one involved dealing with all of Ottabio's supporters who would make trouble. If Xanxus had been dead, then Squalo would most certainly have killed all of Ottabio's underlings as well because bond bereavement was no joke and having acceptable targets for that grief was better than not. Bereaved Guardians without targets blew up at everyone and anyone indiscriminately.

Ottava's Accomplice had identified the security idiots as a target and had even supplied their preferred location, which said that it wasn't the first time this team had done this. They'd done it enough that it was a habit; a very bad habit. A truly Stupid habit.

One that needed breaking.

People got comfortable in their habits which meant that they had less restraint in what they said, as boundaries had been pushed when the moderates had left this particular group to their own devices, since it wasn't really _their_ problem and someone else would take care of it eventually. Extreme opinions then became normal and 'commonplace' and really, there was only so much the staff could do. Officially anyway. Unofficially... the security idiots probably weren't even aware of the power that was subtly wielded by Maria-Chiara, much less the rest of Housekeeping. They knew a lot of people who could make things very difficult very easily and had connections however minor to everyone that had ever entered the building.

Those connections could be used, and Pýř could see why this footman was Ottava's Accomplice. Good eye, good spine with a willingness to use it and sensible as well as practical. Good choice all around. Pity about the lack of reserves and... that was a broken Flame bond. To Ottava, obviously.

Ah, that made things a little more awkward. Ottava's Accomplice would take the words harder because they were about Ottava's family. Nothing about Maria-Chiara directly, but disturbing inclinations and dangerous thoughts nonetheless. Completely wrong and there wasn't a clear way to correct those assumptions, beyond telling the idiots that they were completely wrong in their assumptions and terribly unsuited to being security due to having loose lips and pathetic brains. Well, unless they wanted to invite assassins in to take advantage of how sloppy they were. As that was the only thing Pýř could say without spilling secrets, he had not had any trouble doing so.

Advertising Erica as Nono's granddaughter would not be a wise idea after all. Maria-Chiara and her children and grandchildren –only Erica's children so far– were safer away from the scrutiny that being widely-known as related to Nono would entail. Best to keep that connection as quiet as possible, so Pýř hadn't mentioned it at all. He could have mentioned that Xanxus wasn't dead but that would have been an equally stupid idea. It wasn't easy to tell, but Squalo seemed to be working to convince Nono that the Varia was fine and could be trusted –or that at least _he_ could be trusted– while publicly supporting Federico as Decimo so that Federico could actually free Xanxus. Bringing Xanxus up among the underlings would be counterproductive to that.

That left Pýř rather disgusted with his lack of options across the board and his inability to do anything unless he wanted to make things more complicated for himself and Maínomai by pulling a coup on the Cloud Officer. It was starting to sound like a good idea, considering neither he nor anybody else had an actual plan to do so. It would genuinely surprise everyone, especially considering that he normally left all the impulsive decisions to Maínomai.

Letting one of the staff direct him elsewhere as they came in to clean up was probably a wise idea.

* * *

Pýř had originally left to improve his mood, but Maínomai could see that it hadn't really worked. At all. Not even a leetle bit. Changed, yes; improved no. Not really frustrated but not happy. Not really a good sign, as things went. Maínomai doubted than anyone was actually dead but that didn't mean that Pýř hadn't broken bones or been truly and terribly nasty to someone. Maybe a group of someones. The sort of nasty that meant Pýř was being inventive and sneaky and overprotective.

The sort of nasty that said someone or a group of them had harmed or offended his Territory and he was tempted to indulge in a spot of homicide, but wasn't killing them because that would cause more trouble for his Territory. Pýř's family had no ties to the mafia, so that was out. Which considering they were at the Vongola meant Erica because she was their friend.

Why Erica? Because she had Vongola blood? No, that was kept quiet; Erica was a Lanza and while Maria-Chiara was Nono's daughter, most of the mafia seemed convinced that the man only had sons. So that left the kids as a reason or Erica's unmarried state or a combination of both.

Cake wouldn't really be enough to fix any of their moods, considering they really hadn't done anything to change the various situations... and then Pýř's phone rang so Maínomai found his lap full of his precious daughter, who seemed intent on pulling his hair. Ouch; and he wasn't even tender-headed.

"Speak." Pýř said, showing terrible phone manners. "Ah. That so? I'll tell them. Do you want us to join you? It's only a brief walk away. Yes. And when? Alright. Later." Pýř hung up and explained, "That was Mab. Her waters finally broke while she was talking to the doctor about inducing labour because her boy is already a few days past due, so now she's annoyed and bored while waiting for labour to progress. She's currently making Fuseau get her something to eat, so she'd rather us visit within the hour since we're nearby."

"You forgot to tell her congratulations." Maínomai pointed out.

"I'll do it in person."

And that was when the footman arrived, with the tea tray and cake. He looked familiar, but it took Maínomai a bit to place him. That was Ottava's Accomplice, who appeared to have been promoted from just service staff. He moved briskly and professionally but his eyes looked not just sad, but bleak. That was unexpected, but not their problem unless they wanted to meddle.

"Thank-you Torretta," Erica said, accepting her cup; was that another code-name or a real name? Maínomai couldn't exactly ask, but that Erica was using it rather than calling the man 'Accomplice' suggested that the previous code-name was defunct for some reason.

"You are welcome, Signora," the Latent Rain murmured, eyes on the tea he was pouring. His words, however gracious, held a distinctly quelling undertone that effectively suppressed further conversation until he'd finished serving everybody with tea and cake and promptly left the room.

"So, Erica wants to go on holiday," Maínomai said brightly in German, bribing his daughter into letting go of his hair with a cube of cake. "But she'll need discreet bodyguards who can double as babysitters."

"Go where?" Pýř asked in the same language, glancing thoughtfully at his god-daughter for an instant before turning his attention back to his own cake.

"The Black Forest," Erica said firmly. "Two weeks at the very _least_ , please; I want to be back home for August, but I also want my holiday to be as long as possible since I don't know how long it will be until my next one."

Pýř glanced over to catch Maínomai's eye and the Mist tried to communicate that yes, he wanted to go along with this so Pýř could visit his cousin but he was also a bit freaked about the werewolf thing. His partner seemed to get the message as he nodded.

"How?" The Cloud asked Erica.

"I tell Federico, he insists I need security and you suggest he hire a Squad," Erica said firmly, sipping her tea. "He'll do the rest, from insisting he gets yours and Maínomai's Squad to offering a hefty fee so as to get things done quickly and without fuss. There are things it will be easier for him and others to get done once the children are out of the Iron Fort."

Possibly including Boss-related things, Maínomai realised. Ooh!

"Deal," Pýř said with a flash of teeth that was _almost_ a smile; his mood had shifted again. He looked like a plan had come together in his mind that was going to cause utter havoc amongst people he didn't like, yet would _never_ get traced back to Pýř. Possibly so the wider Varia wouldn't notice the implications of their Squad getting picked to take Federico's niece on holiday?

"Okay, I'll go tell my uncle while you two go visit Mab in Medical," Erica said, finishing her tea. "Take Serena with you, Maínomai; that gives me an excuse to stop by Medical on my way to lunch and means you can get this sorted out with Federico today."

"Certainly, oh mighty mastermind!" Maínomai teased, dodging his daughter's sticky, cake-covered fingers.

* * *

Fuseau was attending to Mab who really did seem annoyed with the whole labour process. Fuseau wasn't frazzled in the least. It was a bit unfair that their kid decided to start coming into the world at a reasonable hour of the morning instead of dark o'clock.

"Ah, Mab did say that ya were nearby. The pair of ya have tiny company too, I see."

Maínomai waved one of Serena's much cleaner hands at the spindly Mist. Cake wasn't difficult to clean off, even if she'd managed to get her sticky paws in his hair once while cleaning her up. Then once her hands and his hair were clean, she had needed changing...

"Yup. Erica decided to see Federico about getting a proper holiday in soon, so she's discussing that because of security concerns. Since we were already visiting, the godfather and I found ourselves babysitting. Better that than fretting over Kuchisake's plans for the Squad since finalising all of that takes place this week."

And that just meant that there was a lot of politics going on in the upper reaches of the Varia for some people. Kuchisake had enough pull to get her way, so it wasn't that big an issue unless Ottabio decided to throw weight around.

"I miss bein' number four, but five is still fine, so congrats on yer promotion." Fuseau said, because the main reason Fuseau wasn't on Mist Squad was that Kuchisake had seniority over Fuseau within the Varia so she was there to be chosen as a replacement for whoever had the physical illusion specialty spot before her. "Any idea how yer Squad is going ta go Pýř?"

"Mist-heavy." Pýř said. "No idea who, other than Ghul being highly likely."

And their Squad getting added to wasn't what Maínomai wanted to think about. Having Ghul meant that they would never have Raas –not that they would anyway as Raas was a Squad Leader in his own right, but still, who would it be–

"Erica's coming by later then?" Mab asked.

"She said she'll be by soon to say hello and congratulations," Maínomai explained because the sole Cloud in the room wasn't. "Also are you in any pain?"

"No pain, because I know how to kill that sensation without numbing others." In other words, she was mentally tricking herself into not being able to feel pain, which was different from merely numbing it and having muted sensation due to the effects of painkillers or any numbing Flame-trick. "And she should save them for later. He takes after his father. Late." Mab complained.

Fuseau just grimaced at the complaint but didn't argue against it. Mostly because Fuseau tended to be a few minutes late to everything. It wasn't easily noticeable and those that did notice it generally attributed it to Wanhope's presence but no, Fuseau by himself was generally later than if he was with someone else, even the ever-miserable Wanhope. Maínomai had no idea how Fuseau managed that, but it wasn't a Mist-Curse or even an Aura-Curse considering the valid if strange reasons for being late generally being other people or creatures in places they weren't supposed to be. Like cows on the road.

Being a bit late was far less trouble than certain other issues that some people had, even outside of the Mist Division, where issues could actually come alive. Those was rather terrible when they happened and the rest of the Varia was very strongly not amused when they _did_ happen, which hadn't been for a good many years now; the last one had been during the lull between the Cradle Affair and the Captain's recruitment drive.

"What are you doing after retirement in a few years, Fuseau? I assume you have a plan." Pýř voiced.

"Thought 'bout doing something of the family tradition once upon a time and bein' untraceable but that's been out fer years. So I'll be workin' fer Logistics or the same fer Housekeeping, mostly in keepin' secret stuff secret."

In other words, Fuseau would be smuggling quite a bit, while making it look like he wasn't.

"Family tradition?" Maínomai asked.

"I'm from a family of freelancers. Pro-Vongola o'course." Fuseau explained. "Knowin' how ta disappear is a highly under-rated skill."

"Then why haven't they organized?" Pýř questioned. "There are benefits to that."

"They're all Mists." Mab explained with a chuckle, which did explain a lot of why they didn't. "It's better for them to work with an existing structure than to create one on their own, so they work for the wider Vongola when they chose to do such work as it _is_ a choice. Add in the general perception of Mists... as a former Officer, I can tell you that's rather detrimental to be exposed to. Making connections is good, but most mafia-connections are already tainted by the perception that Mists aren't trustworthy by the time they're allowed to socialise without constant supervision, which affects the Mists in terms of creativity, ability and behaviour in a bad way. The shortage of mafia-raised Mists being in the top ranks of the Mist Division is evidence in itself. It's pretty much a self-perpetuating problem outside of the Varia."

Maínomai considered that. It took a bit to place what he know about those of his Division to their overall rankings, and yeah, there were only two in the top twenty who were mafia-raised that he knew for certain and they were at fifteen and seventeen respectively. A few more certainly had such connections growing up, like Fuseau did, but that didn't make them actually mafia-raised and they rounded out the number to five, maybe seven at max. That was rather telling by itself, and it made Maínomai happy that Serena was a Sun, even if she did have a Mist secondary.

Sure, she was too young to use either of them and would be for years... but it still didn't change the fact that most people in the mafia didn't really understand Flames beyond a set of behavioural stereotypes unless they had them and were trained in them but even then... a Sun was seen in much better light than a Mist. Having multiple affinities and Flames really didn't get much notice or attention outside the Varia. Not that some people didn't know or use them, but it was harder to get training to use them when the people around you didn't know how to use them outside of one set way and being self-taught was not always for the best either. Being exclusively self-taught was a good way to get yourself killed.

In the Vongola about ten percent –at most– of the Famiglia was Flame-active, and they were mostly confined to the upper echelon and the middle management looking to move up the ranks. That didn't always make them very skilled at using Flames either, due to a lack of training or time to practice due to other Family duties and business. That kept them apart from potential teachers and training buddies, limiting the spread of knowledge and how quickly skills could grow outside of various specialised programs like 'Guardian Training', which focused on what the Guardian should be and not always what was best for the person. In comparison, nearly all of the Varia could use Flames and use them skilfully, creating new techniques and uses or picking them up from each other. The only people who weren't able to at least use Flames in the Varia were those who had too little of them to achieve Activation and they could be counted on one hand, which didn't make them less deadly because not using Flames didn't make a weapon less dangerous. In fact the Flame-Latent Varia were often even _more_ ingenious then their peers in finding new and untraceable ways to kill people.

Huh. While Maínomai knew plenty of Mists and was one himself, so that part of Serena's eventual education was well covered, there wasn't a Sun that knew about Serena that he'd trust with her eventual education there. Magharibi was an option, but she was more a poison and antidote specialist than a Flame-specialist unlike several others. Then again, Suns were encouraged to be hand-to-hand combatants or healers but even that was pretty restrictive when Maínomai knew Suns that could induce mental disorders by screwing with brain chemistry or open up all the old wounds a person had by activating and supercharging the mechanisms that normally dissolved old tissue and focusing on that.

The rest of the people in the room let that subject drop and Mab clearly changed the subject by asking Pýř about what had him in such a fine temper. That was explained as Cloud-Territory issues concerning his Squad and a lot of annoyance at various Stupid idiots that didn't know who they worked for which further agitated his Territory issues, as it included Erica and her children.

Maínomai mostly listened to that while he tried to keep his daughter from pulling out his hair. Maínomai could tell when his partner was plotting –and right now Pýř was– and Maínomai could guess that it would be focused on the only 'target' that wouldn't further complicate his Territory issues. So not any of the Vongola people no matter how Stupid some of them were, the CEDEF hadn't irritated the Cloud recently as Erica wasn't there to suffer, Kuchisake was adding to the Squad and that was but necessary in some way or another else Mammon wouldn't let her without effective reasoning on why, which left Ottabio who was annoying to Pýř by dint of existing and being the reason he couldn't get someone to agree to his choices for a Squad if he wanted or had to add to it which is what most Squad Leaders did. This was a big part of the reason that very few Clouds not affiliated with Ottabio were Squad Leaders; not having any control over who would be in your Squad was a major turn-off.

Whatever Pýř was planning had to by necessity be untraceable back to him and his Territory, which meant it needed to look entirely incidental even to the ever-paranoid Varia. That'd be tricky and had to involve people being themselves, which left only a few choices of who'd annoy Ottabio and how. Ottabio had recently been hit with a summer flu that had been going around, so that had to be factored into things because the reasoning would have to be plausible and someone getting sick was something that happened, so if that was the 'plan'... it meant it had to be one of the more troublesome Squads. Sarja's personal Squad was nicknamed 'Problem Squad' for a reason –mostly because various GMs dumped problem people on Sarja to 'fix'– but none of them were currently Clouds... so it would have to be Hawkeye, the Squad Leader of Marvel Squad. Hawkeye who kept Marvel Squad in line and drastically limited the number of incidents they were otherwise capable of to a manageable minimum.

Other possible plans were possible, but too damaging to the status quo –like arranging Ottabio's death– or would force Pýř or others into various positions which would be perilous until Ottabio's supporters were either dead or other incapable of causing trouble. Ottabio had around a third of Cloud Division's support, but the other two-thirds were a bit more 'feral' and weren't all that organized. The more even-tempered Clouds had migrated towards the Rain Division since Squalo was both Rain Officer and Captain of the Varia, the more aggressive Clouds towards the Storm Division since Bel would happily stick his neck out to thwart Ottabio on even the slimmest of pretexts and then there were the couple of oddballs that had made themselves at home in other Divisions. Even so, Ottabio was slowly losing 'ground' as his GM –Udar– was against him and Cloud Squad had recently been united and remade into a functional unit under Sumu. Maínomai wasn't quite sure how, but rumour had it Tyrant had commended her disciplinary procedures and that said scary, scary things about her methods.

"Ow." he said as Serena tugged his hair again. Untangling little fists from his hair was not enjoyable since she seemed determined to grab it and keep hold of it. He'd have to talk to Pýř about his very evil plan later, because siccing Marvel Squad on someone without a moderating influence should probably violate some unsaid Varia rule.

At that point a member of Vongola Medical –a nurse by his uniform– opened the door, causing all conversation to abruptly cease. Maínomai had to hand it to the man though: he didn't actually flinch at having three current and one former member of the Independent Assassination Squad staring at him. In fact he just looked bored.

"Miss Lanza is here for her daughter and the Heir would like to speak to Pýř of the Varia," he said blandly.

Maínomai turned to leave, but Pýř deftly stole his daughter out of his hands –Serena thankfully let go of his hair before the handover was complete– and walked out, pausing briefly in the door way to mention that Maínomai should,

"Stay put."

Maínomai huffed, hands on hips. He was not a dog! Besides, he wanted to find out the details of Iemitsu's psych evaluation as Pýř didn't know to ask about that. So he ignored his partner's presumption and headed out the door after him.

* * *

Pýř stepped out of the private room and noted that this particular reception room had been completely invaded by the Decimo and half his Guardians, although admittedly the room had been empty when he and his partner had come in twenty minutes earlier.

The Cloud walked directly over to where Erica and her uncle were engaged in a spirited debate over appropriate security procedures –the blonde Rain was categorically refusing to take a maid with her– and handed his god-daughter over to her mother.

"Thank-you Pýř," Erica said graciously in Sicilian, completely switching gears in an instant. "Please dissuade my uncle from forcing me to take on holiday the kind of entourage that would require I book an entire hotel?"

"A smaller party is more discreet," Pýř stated firmly in the same language, "and a properly versatile security detail should be capable of providing domestic assistance as necessary. The security detail acting as domestic help would in fact be even more discreet and discretion is more effective than a show of force in ensuring safety."

"Is that your professional opinion?" The Decimo asked, fixing Pýř with a very keen look. Federico Vongola was clearly aware that his niece had set him up, but was going along with it because he could see it was a good idea. So if Pýř could prove the set-up was feasible, he would probably be granted free reign to take care of Erica in the future.

Pýř _wanted_ that freedom. Erica was part of his Territory and freedom to protect her and her children as he wished would be very satisfying.

"It is," the Cloud said decisively.

"Elucidate," Federico demanded promptly –in German. Oh, so the Decimo had been paying attention to more than just Maínomai; encouraging considering Pýř had made a point of lurking in the background and avoiding conversation.

Pýř elucidated. He pointed out that most holiday-goers were small groups of family and friends, so people paid less attention to them. He asserted that a small team –less than five– could easily fit into 'family and friends' roles around Erica and her children. He insisted that the best security was the kind no watcher would pick up on, because obvious guards imply that there is something worth stealing present. He pointed out that it would be easier to arrange accommodation for a smaller party at short notice and even threw in that Erica and her children would be under less stress with fewer people around them scrutinising their actions while they were trying to relax.

He managed to do all this politely, which he very rarely bothered to be.

"I am convinced," Federico said with a smile, clapping his hands together. "I'll have a mission request submitted to the Varia specifically for your Squad; I look forward to my niece's glowing reviews on your discretion and competence when she returns."

That was… Pýř glanced at Othello, Federico's Cloud; the man blinked sleepily back at him. So, it seemed Federico was well-trained in understanding and motivating Cloudy-inclined people in non-offensive ways. That was reassuring, considering the man was going to be Vongola Boss at some point. Still, Pýř wasn't holding his breath; a keen eye for personnel or not, the Decimo-to-be still had terrible personal habits.

"Ah, Maínomai; did you have anything to add?"

Pýř had known his partner was hovering behind him even though he had asked the other man to stay with Mab and Fuseau; why couldn't he listen?

"Er, no, I think Pýř covered everything," the Mist said sheepishly. "My question was something different."

"Go on," Federico said, evidently amused by Maínomai's slight embarrassment.

"I was asking Erica why she needed a holiday and she said something about having to comment on a mental health evaluation…" Maínomai trailed off as Federico's good mood abruptly evaporated. Pýř did not in any way change his stance or posture, but he was suddenly _very_ interested in the answer to his partner's inquiry.

"I'll go give Mab my congratulations in person," Erica said calmly, walking off. Now Pýř _definitely_ wanted to know what was going on when it was upsetting her that much.

"It so happens," Hamlet said silkily from Federico's right, "that the External Advisor is suffering from a narcissistic personality disorder which is adversely affecting the _Consulenza Esterna_ and by extension the Vongola Famiglia."

"Unfortunately," continued Antony from where he was leaning against the wall behind and to the right of Pýř, "there exists no mechanism whereby a Vongola Boss can curtail the activities of an External Advisor and replace them should they become a detriment to the Family, despite a clear procedure existing to enable the contrary."

"Negotiations are in progress with Nono to counter this rather glaring oversight," Othello said with deceptive mildness, "but as it requires a change in Tradition progress is slow. Superbi is already offering what support he can in this matter and will be informed should the situation change."

So if Iemitsu needed removing then the Varia would be contracted for the job; good to know.

"How did Iemitsu even manage to become head of the Consulenza Esterna with that?" Maínomai all but snarled. His partner's fury told Pýř this 'narcissistic personality disorder' was a very serious condition even if Pýř hadn't heard of it before. Then again with a name like 'personality disorder' it had to be terrible, more so to make Maínomai actually angry, even if he was hiding the worst of it. Maínomai was rarely angry like this but it was never pretty when he was. The more formal he became, the angrier he was; mostly because he didn't have a target to take it out on.

"That's not a mental issue I'm familiar with." Pýř admitted, because while the Varia had its share of issues, this wasn't one he had even heard of.

"Because it's a rare one and the people who have personality disorders are all scum, some more than others depending on which one they have. Some conditions are more treatable than others, but narcissists won't even admit they have an issue and lie instead." Maínomai explained, which told Pýř that the Varia considered it a severe enough issue that they didn't allow people with it to join. "To even diagnose it requires a consistent pattern of behaviour over time and a certain set of beliefs. An inflated sense of self-worth, of being special which should be recognized, admired. That he should be praised for his efforts because those around him are unable, uncooperative or unfit, being nothing more than hindrances or at best supporters even as he treats them as worse than trash and lacks the ability to empathize with anybody. Not in the psychopathic way, but in the way that others' feelings mean nothing to him because they're not special like he is."

Which sounded somewhat like Ottabio but at least several times worse, because Iemitsu was a Sky, Nono's nephew and the CEDEF head. Iemitsu actually had power over policy and more than a handful of people under his command.

Maínomai continued, "No wonder the man has a total lack of Guardians and drives those with active Flames out of the organization. If it was just because he was a terrible human being, then there would still have been someone interested for some reason or another; prestige or connections at least. Even accidental proximity bonds with those he spent time around because he's been leading field teams instead of trying to manage the office, but nothing's happening because he's constantly subconsciously dismissing them when he's not doing so overtly and personally. Worse is that due to his narcissism, he's weak-minded even if he's stubborn."

Pýř noticed Hamlet frown at that, which Federico picked up on. As did the rest of the man's Guardians.

"Explain for the non-Mists here?" Antony asked.

"It means that he's a mental sieve of information for any half-competent Mist and dangerously weak to them so long as he doesn't expect it." Hamlet explained.

"Worse: He half-lives in fantasy because of course he's the special one, with a delusional perfect life, receiving all possible admiration from subordinates and occupying a special position because he was chosen for it due to his outstanding abilities. Any Mist, even a moderately talented self-trained one, could hi-jack his fantasy enough that he'd be completely unaware of it diverging from reality. Then they can play with his brain however they wish. Pick your nightmare scenario from there, because there're plenty of choices." Maínomai suggested sharply.

Pýř could think of a few nightmare scenarios that Iemitsu could be used to cause off the top of his head. He kills Nono during a meeting, which while disastrous to the wider mafia would actually probably benefit the Vongola in the long run: Federico would become Decimo and Federico at least listened to the Varia's concerns and would have just cause to remove Iemitsu with extreme prejudice. Iemistu systematically destroys all of the Vongola's alliances and starts a gigantic mafia war that would spread across the world. He decides to massacre the CEDEF and about the only person who could fight him would be Lal Mirch, who might be far, far away when that happened. The latter was terribly plausible if Iemitsu was caught and used in such a manner... and Erica would likely be the first target due to her desk's proximity to his.

Federico had likely known of this, which is why assassinating Iemitsu was actually an option, if a last resort due to politics.

"Shouldn't you two already know this anyway? Since the Varia did the assessment in the first place?" Federico's Lightning asked.

"I haven't worked for Information for a while, and this sort of news hasn't made gossip so the Captain may have issued a gag order. I've been too busy anyway with helping my friend and her children by being a good friend when I haven't been on missions or training because having those two in my life was sufficient motivation to improve my skills."

"Are you sure–?" Federico started to ask.

"That would be a bit more difficult to manage now. I'm a Lanza, which makes me a bit too closely related for that. There are even tests that say so, but you could also just look at Andrea and me so you don't have to go through all the expense." Maínomai practically purred while smiling.

Ah, Mist-headgames and politics. Federico and his Guardians knew better than to believe that, but others within the Vongola didn't and it was hard to deny the physical resemblance between his partner and Umberto's bastard son Andrea; even without the 'tests' that they knew had to be faked. His partner avoided having to marry Erica –which she didn't want to do either– and both he and his partner benefited by having a Famiglia to retire to in several years. It also appeared that Federico hadn't been aware of Maínomai's 'adoption' by the Lanzas, so his face and Hamlet's were quite the picture.

"We'll see ourselves elsewhere. We do have plans for later today." Pýř said. "Quiet Week means no missions are assigned this week, but it's no less busy since nearly everyone is in."

And maybe they could see who Kuchisake had placed on their Squad soon.

* * *

Translations

Schöne = beautiful, lovely (German)

Tenaz = tongs (Portuguese)

Khon = hammer (Thai)

EDIT: thanks, guest german-speaker, for pointing out my spelling flub!


	8. A Very Varia Vacation 2

Co-written with the ever-awesome Insane Scriptist.

And since it apparently needs clarifying, these two chapters take place in the summer _before_ Federico gets reduced to bones.

* * *

 **A Very Varia Vacation**

"So," Kuchisake said archly, looking from where Pýř was lounging in the corner of the room and picking his nails with a knife to Maínomai, who was standing almost unnaturally still in an attempt to not accidentally pocket any of the Mist Squad Leader's knick-knacks. "I'm sure you saw the new Squad details on the wall downstairs. Ottabio wanted to stick you with a mook but Mammon objected on the basis that most of what you do is highly specialised and discreet, so Squalo vetoed it. Maybe next year you'll get somebody with the right aptitude who needs a bit of seasoning, but not yet."

Chaos Squad –that was the official name even– was led by Pýř but had Maínomai as 'primary combatant' due to Maínomai being on Mist Squad; that was why Mammon had been able to object to Ottabio's wanting to stick them with a mook. The two new members were Vahn and Ghul; pretty much as expected and making the Squad very Mist-heavy. However since their official specialty was 'Espionage and Sabotage' that made sense; Mists were naturally very good at both and Vahn's personal specialty was actually 'surveillance'.

"And, guess what? You have your first mission all lined up already!" Kuchisake said brightly. "Two missions, even: a milk run to help you settle in together and one to investigate the werewolves that apparently live around the Black Forest somewhere. Sources suggest that there used to be a rather large pack of them ten years ago but they all fell apart about three years back, so you shouldn't face any organised resistance."

Organised? Werewolves could be organised? Maínomai had _not_ considered that; all the old folk-tales only mentioned solitary ones! That sometimes ate a bit too much, depending on the story and source.

"Raas has all the details so go bother him for them," Kuchisake finished. "Well, what are you waiting for? Shoo!"

Maínomai shooed, Pýř following behind him.

"So, where do we start?" Maínomai asked once they were in the hall.

Pýř shrugged a shoulder. "Raas," he suggested.

"Oh, so we have something structured to talk about. Good plan," Maínomai agreed. "You want to get the paperwork or shall I?"

"I'll find the others and grab a room," Pýř said. Raas could get very wordy and Maínomai knew his partner got impatient with wordy people. Ghul was less wordy and more elliptical, so they probably wouldn't have a problem there and Vahn tended to not say anything unless he had something to contribute, at which point he could go on for ages listing all the details.

"Okay, see you in a bit!"

* * *

Vahn had always known of Maínomai, because by the time he was 'Vahn' he'd encountered the flighty fellow Mist on a few memorable occasions and heard a lot of stories about him. Stories about Maínomai were popular because they highlighted the two very important facts that, firstly, _anything_ could happen on a mission and secondly, that getting distracted on missions made the likelihood of things going fruit-shaped much, much higher. Admittedly it wasn't always Maínomai's distraction getting him into trouble, but it was hard to argue that it hadn't been the Mist's 'fault' now that everybody knew he'd been Cursed, so that Curse made it difficult not to retrospectively blame him for whatever oddity had happened in his general vicinity.

That Maínomai-stories were funny as well as educational made them memorable and popular, although most of them contained the very clear subtext that, flaky hyperactive kleptomaniac though he was, the Alteration specialist was both insanely brilliant and ridiculously powerful. Oh, and he had a highly possessive and Stormy Cloud lurking in his general vicinity at all times, so making fun of his shortcomings probably wasn't a good idea.

There were generally a few people every year who missed the subtext and seeing what Pýř or Maínomai did to those people was always good for a laugh. Interesting and educational too, if it was Maínomai doing the retaliating; Pýř just went for brutal violence which was a different kind of educational altogether.

Vahn had only really got to know Maínomai after working out Aura Sight, and he didn't care what other people thought, the name _fitted_! It wasn't an aureole or a corona like Active Flames were, but a contained and usually heavily muted luminosity concentrated under a person's skin. Maínomai's aura was atypical in its brightness and activity, but Vahn had only been able to properly appreciate that after he and Cordial had treated the other Mist's horrendous aura scars. Even now thinking about those made Vahn feel rather queasy and he was a Varia Quality assassin!

However rather than 'just' being an acquaintance and –hopefully maybe– a friend, Maínomai was now his squad-mate and sempai. That was bound to be interesting, even though Vahn was a bit nervous about having Pýř as his Squad Leader. What if the Cloud took against him for some reason? Well, at least Pýř was a _sensible_ Cloud and not given to taking offence at general Mistiness, so Vahn would probably be okay so long as he didn't deliberately waste his Squad Leader's time. Which some Mists would do for the hell of it, but Vahn wouldn't because Vahn had interned with Medical for half his apprenticeship, improving his ability to diagnose various conditions by sight, and in Medical wasting time was _the_ cardinal sin. Time-wasters were slackers and Not Welcome. No matter how great they thought they were.

Thankfully it wasn't just Vahn being added to Pýř and Maínomai's Squad; that would have been daunting. The newly-named 'Chaos Squad' had Ghul on it too and Ghul was a kōhai, if considerably more gifted in the physical applications of Mist Flames that Vahn was. Ghul wasn't exactly a friend but he was vaguely friendly, so long as you understood his references. Well, tried to understand his references; Vahn did his best but his language skills were more practical than literary so he often struggled, but being able to read Ghul's body-language –which was deliberately and almost theatrically expressive– did provide a bit of a cheat sheet.

So here he was in one of the small meeting rooms on the first floor with Ghul, Pýř and Maínomai as the latter two pored over the two mission files Maínomai had brought in and occasionally muttered at each-other in Danish. Vahn could understand the words being used, but he knew he was missing the references and subtext so they made no sense. Ghul was lounging languidly in an armchair and staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for the more experienced half of the new Squad to remember that they had other team-mates to work with now.

Maínomai noticed first, or maybe it was that Maínomai actually cared about their participation. "Oh, right, sorry about that; forgot myself for a minute. We've got two missions, one that's basically a milk-run and running for a full three weeks and the other that's intermittent depending on when we can fit it in around the former. The milk-run's a security detail, so depending on what's going on anything from one to all four of us might be on-duty. The other's reconnaissance and information gathering, specifically on the werewolf population rumoured to be in the area being visited."

Werewolves. Well, Vahn knew that Curses were a very real thing that happened to people and Lycanthropy was supposedly a Curse, so why not?

"When is the full moon?" Ghul asked.

"Er… July sixteenth?" Maínomai hazarded.

"I trust we will be fortifying our position against mythological lunacy and not plumbing the depths of our ignorance then?" The gothic Mist inquired.

"No, no risk-taking; that would endanger the people we're protecting," Maínomai said firmly. "Failing that mission would be really bad."

* * *

Pýř had to admit that his new Squad wasn't as bad as Maínomai had feared it could have been. It would make things interesting and probably pull him and Maínomai off of more 'generalised' missions, as much as the Varia had them. Ghul practically ensured that all by himself due to how he broke into places that weren't fully air-tight. This meant Pýř either would be able to be lazy after the planning stage of the mission was over since he'd just be a supervisor, or would get to be bait or a feint so that people would go up into their hidey-holes and be killed by an awaiting Ghul.

Yesterday after Federico left, they had spent some time checking on Erica and Mab, mostly so Maínomai was assured that they were alright; especially Erica, since Maínomai now knew that Iemitsu wasn't just a bad boss, but a compulsively abusive one to pretty much all of his subordinates without fail. This clearly pissed his partner off, but not even Mab or Fuseau had picked that up, or if they had they didn't know what it was and hadn't said anything. Pýř knew that Maínomai had plans for doing something about it, some sort of revenge at least. Talking him down from unpaid murder had been hard, but there was no way to stop him from taking _some_ form of revenge, so Pýř had set a few limits and left it at that. He wasn't exactly happy either. His partner had explained on the drive back most of the little details that made that particular personality disorder so terrible, as an argument for murdering Iemitsu, and the Cloud would admit to being tempted.

Pýř also had his own revenge planned that his partner had figured out, which was why he had taken the time to talk to Hawkeye of Marvel Squad, who was quite willing to fake coming down with that summer flu that had been going around. The issue would be fooling Medical, but that was something that Hawkeye said he'd take care of. Instead Pýř had sent Maínomai over to the Rain Division, to spar with Glace to work out some of his aggression and to pass a warning onto Gwasgedd that Pýř thought Hawkeye may have caught the flu that had been going around.

Pýř didn't do so himself, mostly because Gwasgedd didn't like him. They had both joined the Varia in '92 and so knew each-other well enough, but it was only after a string of missions together in '95 when she had started her grudge against him. Not because of anything mission related, but because Pýř had pointed out that her crush on the recently-named rookie with them was obvious, enough so that Sarja –who'd joined in '94– would soon notice. She'd only tossed him into a wall over it, leaving a nice imprint of his body, and had held a grudge against him ever since. It hadn't really mattered as she had been promoted to Squad Leader soon after, since she didn't have to work through complicated politics to get promoted without owing Ottabio any sort of favour; having his partner assigned to him meant that no one could break their partnership without due notice.

Gwasgedd would appreciate the warning, because she was the only person other than Hawkeye that Marvel Squad's virulently cheerful Cloud going by the name of Spiderman would actually listen to; mostly because she'd nearly squished him a couple of times. That meant he'd behave for her for about ten minutes at a time, which was nine minutes better than anyone else bar Hawkeye. Warning her mattered because, without Hawkeye to make Marvel Squad behave, things were going to get frustrating for her quickly. Therefore if she had a hint beforehand she could be gone in what would seem to be a series of unrelated circumstances for everyone else.

He'd still get suspicious looks from a few Mists. Those that knew him relatively well, anyway. They'd probably enjoy the excuse for extra chaos anyway so were unlikely to complain. Mab would probably be too busy to complain, what was caring for her newborn son whom she and Fuseau had named Lonán. It was an Irish name, which made Pýř wonder idly what the Faerie Queen's real name was; he was unlikely to ever learn it but it was a thought.

Since being handed their mission he and Maínomai had mostly discussed Erica's itinerary, which did meander up the Black Forest area. Close enough that Pýř could stop in and see his cousin for most of a day, during the second week. If they happened to ignore their new additions to the Squad as they went over the details, why it was only a little intentional. Ghul had worked with them before, so he was used to and recognised this little test but Pýř ignored his dramatic waiting and paid attention to Vahn's flames. A case of nerves, but the third Mist was also methodical and part-timed at Medical, so he'd be reliable and accurate even under stress; good.

"The shy one's nervous; settle him down," the Cloud told his partner.

Pýř let Maínomai explain the basics of what they were doing to Ghul and Vahn.

Ghul inquired, "For a common errand, we have precious jewels to protect?"

"That's one way to put it." Maínomai confirmed.

"We're to be guarding Erica Lanza and her children for the duration of their holiday as a discreet security detail. Erica Lanza is Nono's only granddaughter through Maria-Chiara, and this mission was assigned and paid for by Federico Vongola." Pýř explained, as he saw and felt them register what that meant.

"Precious jewels indeed." Ghul whispered.

"CEDEF secretary Erica Lanza? Keunmul's 'Saint'?" Vahn asked, tipping his head back slightly so he could keep all three of his Squad-mates in his field of vision. That was probably a subconscious tic, since most of Vahn's specialty revolved around his ability to see things.

"Saint?" Maínomai asked, looking slightly more focused than normal.

"Ah," Vahn ducked his head slightly but didn't look away, "yes? It's in their reports; I did stints in Information when it was quiet in Medical and my former Squad didn't need me, so I've cross-referenced and filed about half of Keunmul's paperwork for their current assignment. They started referring to Miss Lanza as 'the saint' by the third report and have been doing so consistently since. Generally in Slovene, since that was the language the first report referring to her as that was written in."

"So 'svetníca'?" Maínomai clarified, looking faintly gratified that Erica's many better qualities were being properly recognised. "Well, it does fit; I'm still amazed she managed to work directly under him for four years straight without being tempted into murder."

Vahn's lips twitched and he looked like he could have commented further on the subject, but he didn't. Instead he asked a question. "So how are we going to be discreet about security, considering that there will be children present?"

A good point; they couldn't exactly claim to be couples –a frequent Varia cover regardless of gender– and none of them really resembled each-other enough to get away with claiming to be siblings. Well actually, Maínomai might manage that with Erica if he lightened his hair a bit…

"We have to be a family group," Pýř said firmly. "Maínomai can Alter his appearance enough to pass as Erica Lanza's sibling and if he Alters my appearance to create a resemblance with her son, I can pose as her husband. Vahn can be my younger half-brother and Ghul…"

"I could play Louise to her Thelma," Ghul offered with a smile. "It's my specialty after all."

Pýř untangled that to mean that Ghul's Body Alteration extended to being able to change his gender at will and that he was prepared to spend the entire mission as a woman. Which was a bit odd, but everybody in the Varia had quirks.

"That would make keeping an eye on her in some of the places she wants to visit easier," Maínomai conceded, "as well as make the security easier. Would you doing that have any effects on your thinking?"

"I choose not to allow it to," Ghul said easily. "My tastes and preferences endure."

"Settled then," Pýř said firmly. "Now onto the practicalities: weapons choices, preferred languages and night watches, medical problems and recognised difficulties, if any."

"I fight with a staff," Ghul replied, starting off the disclosure by virtue of being the most junior Varia present despite technically being higher-ranking than Vahn. "I prefer English, Japanese and Swedish; I like the middle watch; I burn very easily in the sun and I used to be allergic to shellfish; and I am not allowed on missions with Raas because I cannot do so without starting a prank war."

"I fight with a gun," Vahn said next. "I prefer Arabic, French and English; I have no watch preferences; I am lactose intolerant and have no recognised difficulties." A 'recognised difficulty' was something that went on a Varia member's file and was pretty much a black mark, since they were things that the Varia in question couldn't prevent from mucking up their performance in the field. "Oh, and I apparently talk nonsense in my sleep." Vahn hadn't done any missions with them before, so little practical things like that had to be shared.

"I fight with a machete and a whip," Maínomai said cheerfully. "I don't have any language preferences, I like the last watch, I have ADHD and my kleptomania and distractibility are both recognised difficulties."

"Knives; German, Sicilian or Russian; first; an eye Alteration and none," Pýř added, finishing the information exchange. "I am also a very light sleeper and dislike mornings." Three of the four of them had all done one-off missions together before, so they all knew each-other's more basic details such as Flame specialties, potentially objectionable sleeping habits and what languages they had in common, if any; that last statement had been exclusively for Vahn's benefit.

"Good! Let's get down to the details then, shall we!" Maínomai said brightly, spreading the contents of the file across the table and beckoning Ghul and Vahn closer. "Watches sort themselves out easily since none of our preferences clash, so we can put together a rotation that fits in with our charges' itinerary and the intelligence-gathering so nobody gets more sleep-deprived than anybody else; actually we could probably do three watches a night as standard so that everybody doesn't end up short on sleep every night. Maybe rotate so that whoever has had primary day-duty gets a full night's sleep? We'll try both and see how it goes. Werewolf sightings are marked here –see on this map– and the itinerary goes quite close to that big spot there in the first week, then through this thinner scatter towards the end of the third week."

Pýř had paid extra to get details of recent potential vampire victims in that area from Mammon and there had been a few suspicious deaths around the area they were going to be in during the third week, but nothing else. If mythology was accurate than vampires and werewolves loathed each-other; scattered evidence of both in the same area might be a low-key turf warfare of the supernatural kind. Nothing organised, because vampires were very clearly solitary, but still a potential risk. Tourist traps had a high possibility of being a desirable hunting area due the steady stream of people in and out, so long as the targets were chosen with care. His partner and his relatives hadn't been bothered by vampires bar the incident that had killed his partner's mother, despite them being 'bright', so he shouldn't worry too much about it. He still felt a bit uneasy about it though. He didn't like this supernatural business interfering with his Territory at all.

Best to plan the whole trip out now, so that he could get his personal day during the second week and visit his cousin.

* * *

Taking a vacation with a Squad of Varia was different to what Erica had expected, although she wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting. Maybe them being a bit more visibly eccentric like 'Soleil' looked? Instead Maínomai had gone blond in such a way that reminded Erica a lot of her youngest brother; Benvenuto would look a lot like that once he was grown, provided he actually got that tall. Her former lover also looked younger blond, which added to the illusion. Pýř had acquired a tan and lost the blue-black hair in favour of hair that looked as though Amadeo had inherited it from him; he was also wearing glasses which changed how the colour of his eyes was perceived; they appeared brown instead of pink when he was wearing them. Thankfully he still had his own face, so she was able to firmly ignore the very faint resemblance to the man who had sired her son. That Pýř behaved and sounded _nothing_ like that man helped there, to the point that Erica soon forgot the barely-there resemblance had bothered her at all.

The other two members of the Squad were Vahn and Ghul; it was even harder to tell that this was their first mission together with Maínomai and Pýř as a Squad, but the Varia were professionals and the insistence on Quality existed for a reason. Ghul was dramatic in a very theatrical sense and was also an Alteration specialist, even if he worked in a very obviously different manner to Maínomai, since he was being 'Soleil' and there was a bit of teasing there about Ghul's apprentice name, mentions of Raas and revenge. Most of the Squad were going by drastically different names to some extent –Pýř had managed to get his Varia-name as his current identity's last name– but they were responding to them as if it were natural. It was very hard to tell that they weren't family all vacationing together. It was next to impossible to suspect that they were actually security for her and her children, much less that the half of the Squad she was barely familiar with weren't friends and family. It was just a loving couple with children, both bringing their brothers and a friend along for a vacation; nothing unusual about that, other that Soleil's eye-catching fashion choices.

Antony, Lear and Romeo had seen them off at the airport, as Uncle Federico had a meeting he couldn't get out of without consequences. Romeo had actually hit on 'Soleil' and failed spectacularly. Soleil was very beautiful with rich red hair, curves that made Erica feel inadequate and entirely uninterested in men; she'd never met Ghul before, but Maínomai assured her that there was no change in personality. Vahn hadn't changed his looks at all that she knew of, looking not very different from the disguised Cloud which made it more plausible that he and Pýř were related on paper.

Pýř had run a brief with her, mostly informing her and Amadeo about the names they were going by, who was who to whom and how they would set up rooms at the various hotels. The Cloud had even managed to make Amadeo enjoy it, by making a challenge of it. It was sweet of him, although amusingly he hadn't told her son _why_ the boy was supposed to call him 'Vati'. Or what it meant. Calling Maínomai 'Uncle' had been easy; Amadeo had been referring to the recently-adopted Lanza as that for _months_ , if not to Maínomai's face because her son had been worried about how her friend would take it. After getting affirmation like this, Amadeo was likely never going to stop calling her friend that, which was very sweet.

That their little 'family' was going to be acting bilingual, with Pýř's half being German and Erica's being Italian, made things both more complicated and easier. Ghul was being French for added confusion, but the variety of passports and identity cards meant that the polyglot mix of languages spoken by both the adults and the children wouldn't attract much attention. Mixed-language families were getting more common in the European Union, so that Amadeo was speaking mostly Italian with her and Maínomai but German with his supposed father wouldn't be worthy of serious note.

To be honest, having people around she could safely leave Amadeo and Serena with was what made this a relaxing holiday rather than the location. Being well away from home and the prying eyes of the Family however meant she could do her own thing –generally with Ghul-as-Soleil alongside her– without worrying about anybody drawing the wrong conclusions about who her children were spending time with in public and why.

* * *

Maínomai caught the stuffed mouse that Serena had thrown out of her pram –again– and made a face at his nine-month-old daughter, prompting her to giggle at him, reaching out for the toy. The twenty-five-year-old sighed in a very put-upon manner and handed the mouse over, then sagged when Serena promptly sat up and threw it out of the pram again then laughed at his pout. His daughter was mocking him!

"Nice to see you know where you stand," Ghul said dryly as Maínomai picked up the mouse _again_ , pushing the pram further around the greenhouse they were in. Erica had wanted to see the Freiburg Botanical Gardens, so that was where they were. Pýř was a bit ahead of them, one arm casually wrapped around Erica's waist as he answered Amadeo's questions about various plants and where they came from in German. The five-year-old's German was basic, but not much more so than his Italian and he clearly understood Pýř's explanations well enough since he rarely turned to his mother for clarification.

Maínomai stuck his tongue out at the goth, making Serena giggle again. Ghul as a woman was just as crimson-haired and white-skinned as when he was male, but without any stubble and visibly slimmer all over. Except for the chest area, the hips and the much longer hair; that was clearly where the spare mass had been displaced to. Ghul still dressed like he was attending a Victorian funeral, except that being woman-shaped meant that involved a black doll hat with a black veil attached to it, a black calf-length dress with a fitted bodice and a low neckline, with a gauzy black cobweb patterned shawl and strappy black heels to finish it off.

All in all the result drew quite a lot of attention, but generally only for the few moments it took for people to register what they were seeing and dismiss it. The only thing that threw the image of dark elegance was that Ghul was currently going by the name 'Soleil', which was Raas's fault since he'd been the one to arrange Ghul's alternate gender passport. Ghul had sworn vengeance and was probably concocting something already.

"Ma!" Serena demanded, meaning the mouse. In Italian a mouse was a _topo_ , but it had been a gift from Pýř who had told her it was a _Maus_. So 'Ma' it was and would remain, since Erica was keen to have her children be as polyglot as possible.

Maínomai quickly tucked Maus into a pocket and showed his daughter his empty hands. "Nope, nothing here," he assured her seriously, "see?" Then he reached out and tickled Serena, because after making him pick up the mouse twenty-nine times she thoroughly deserved a good tickling.

His infant daughter squealed piercingly, squirming and flailing as he found all her ticklish spots. "Paaa!"

"Is your uncle torturing you, little one?" Pýř asked, arriving back at the pram and scooping his god-daughter up in his arms. "Were you being naughty?"

Serena giggled at the Cloud, her tiny fingers gripping his shirt collar as she patted the side of his face with her other hand. "Pa, paaa! Ma!"

"I'll go keep Amadeo entertained while you dote, shall I?" Maínomai said wryly, ducking around Ghul's other side and jogging up the path towards Erica and her son. His daughter had a definite thing for Pýř talking to her and last night she had refused to go to sleep until the Cloud picked her up and walked up and down the hotel corridor with her in his arms, talking quietly the whole time in Polish. Maínomai would have been jealous if he hadn't been pretty desperate for sleep himself at the time. He was jealous _now_ that his daughter wanted to cuddle with her godfather and not with him, though.

"Bested by Serena again?" Erica asked him in German, poking him in the ribs to get his attention.

"I think it was a draw this time," Maínomai protested with a grin. "Hey, Amadeo? Want to see if we can get behind your _Vati_ and surprise him?"

Amadeo beamed, bouncing on his toes. "Yes, please Uncle!"

"Right then; we'll have to go all the way around the back," Maínomai said, then had to jog after Erica's eldest because he'd shot off at high speed down a side-path.

"We're ninja going to rescue a princess from the bad fairies!" Amadeo whispered loudly as they lurked behind a tall fern and waited for Pýř to turn the other way.

"What kind of fairy is Pýř?" Maínomai asked curiously. Amadeo gave him an unimpressed look.

"The kind that turns into a dragon of course! _Vati_ is _obviously_ a dragon! He collects things and doesn't like it when people take them!"

Maínomai collapsed into helpless giggles behind the five-year-old; it was just so hilariously accurate! He couldn't help it! He was dying!

"I've been cursed with giggles!" He managed to gasp out. "Rescue the princess without me!"

Amadeo, who had been staring at him in concern, turned and dashed around the corner. Maínomai dragged himself forwards in time to see the little boy get chased around the pram by Ghul even as he chased Pýř, Serena clinging to the Cloud's currently-brown hair and laughing.

This was the best holiday he'd ever had.

* * *

Maínomai had been browsing various shops with Vahn, 'shopping for relatives' being their excuse to browse. His hands had been much better behaved since he'd had his Curse broken, but they still acted up on occasion and it was far from the right season to keep his hands in his pockets on the street and not appear rude; summer wasn't winter where keeping hands inside a coat would be sensible.

The problem was that most of the shops were filled with things meant to be sold to tourists and that a lot of the mass-produced items on sale were cheap little mementos. If he wanted anything classy and not the kind of crap a person could buy anywhere, he'd have to go to local artisans. Which meant finding them first.

"Hey, do you know any of the local artisans around here? I'm looking for a gift that's a bit more unique for my sister and I've yet to find anything that would really suit her. I thought about getting her one of the carved candles that my brother-in-law said was a traditional craft but having an open flame around little kids isn't wise." He babbled cheerfully to the teenage sales-clerk; she seemed nervous but she could be new to the job or have any number of perfectly mundane issues.

But there was the nagging suspicion that that wasn't it, like a detail in an illusion was off and her answer raised more red flags; she wasn't a good liar. "Um, my friend and his family, they're really into traditional crafts: Wood-carving, pottery; things like that."

And her accent was off from the beginning. A non-native speaker, working retail? She was fluent, but not confident. She also moved slowly, like she was tired and sore all over. He noticed that as he acquired further details for where he could find these friends and left the shop while Vahn actually bought something. If Maínomai had given the impression that he had only met Vahn today to the sales-clerk and had been asking him for advice since Vahn's girlfriend and his sister had struck up a friendship, then that wasn't Maínomai's problem.

"So she?" Maínomai asked in Arabic, because it was either that she was a werewolf or she was pregnant and didn't know it; there'd be more emotional stress if she did.

"Werewolf." Vahn confirmed. "It looks very odd to Aura Sight; couldn't possibly be anything else though. How did you know?"

"Accent, body language, lots of little tells. She lied with what she or someone else thought was a good lie. A better liar would deny a close relation to the artisans she referenced, maybe reference some other people instead. Wanna bet that this friend and all of his family are werewolves like she is?"

"No bet."

"We might have to do something about their alpha though. Maybe some of the betas too?" It'd be tricky, probably. Daytime because night and the moon would be on the wolves' side, because if they were like that to their own pack then they probably wouldn't hesitate to go after humans, maybe even kids. Get them young enough and the pack would be all they'd know; raise them like that and that would be the beginning of an army. They probably couldn't return the werewolves to their family if they even had one, because that would be rude and could make things worse for whatever kids were there; having a pack would have a stabilizing effect right? The Varia could keep them and get all the werewolf information they wanted, since having experts on hand was better than just spying and picking pieces out of people's brains.

"Why so?" Vahn asked.

"It's just past the full moon so tiredness and being sore are explainable, but not the shyness and underlying anxiety. Either trauma from the bite if that Curse is actually passed that way, if it was recent, or simple abuse," Maínomai guessed, because he had caught up on all the psychology he could after Mantis had corrected him about the hypersexuality bit before he turned Mantis into a mummy; studying was something that could be done in his room even if it could be seen as 'sulking' so he had. It helped that the Varia had extensive materials on some conditions, generally out of professional or medical interest.

Vahn frowned at that. "I missed that."

"It was only a lack of confidence, an overdeveloped sense of shame and excessive feelings of responsibility and inadequacy. Also, she was very tense when I was close to her. Typical signs of emotional and mental abuse, since werewolves are supposed to heal fast according to fiction. Now let's see about these local craftsmen?"

* * *

Apparently werewolf-made crafts were popular with tourists. Popular enough to have the rest of the pack working while a younger teenager –also female– manned the area they claimed while watching a few other kids.

Maínomai was getting a feeling of how they operated. Females played nice with people and held down an actual job; any full-moon stress and shenanigans could be put down as mundane monthly issues. Which did make hunting and specialising in various crafts to sell a very manly choice, but it wasn't like school would be easy for them to go to; schools would need records of some sort. Health records at the very least. If someone wasn't native, then things would be even worse for them wouldn't it? Nowhere else to go.

So yes, the elder werewolves would probably have to go. International kidnapping, abusive behaviour and living this close to town? He really didn't like those odds. The kids however were cute. The youngest he'd seen was about seven or eight, but he might have been born between two werewolves judging by how feral he acted.

Which didn't explain how Maínomai ended up with a lap full of probable-werewolf, trying to teach him how to spell. It was slow going because the kid was dyslexic. Not that the other kids who were probably nine and eleven weren't trying to help, but they weren't really helpful. More distracting than helpful. Still cute, if a little scruffy.

Well, if he was planning to get rid of the alpha and more indoctrinated betas he'd have to install a new alpha too... and give the werewolves up to someone that could do so full time or else he'd have to kill them all. He didn't want to make the wider mafia aware of the supernatural –they were a suspicious enough lot already– and that only left tossing them into the Varia and Tyrant's care or killing them all. It wasn't really a choice.

Tyrant it was.

Maínomai let his hands flare a bit of Flame; enough to catch Vahn's eyes and attention before slipping deliberately into Varia sign.

Vahn, who had been loitering around chatting idly while keeping him and the little wolves in view, bought another gift from the stall before heading a block or so away to call Pýř, ostensibly because 'he didn't want to worry his girlfriend', because this would be the Squad Leader's call ultimately; the nice thing about both of them being Mists was that talking aloud wasn't really necessary and distance really didn't matter.

Investigating personally. Contact Pýř for a tail. May manage to hammer and anvil leadership between us. Depends on location and chain of command of enemy group. Tell Pýř contact should kept casual until a show of force can be managed to maximum effect.

* * *

Pýř wanted to strangle his partner. Yes, they'd done this ploy plenty of times over the course of their partnership. It didn't mean that he had to like it, especially since this would likely tangle up their plans for the next day or three.

If his partner was serious about taking out the leadership of the pack, then what about the rest of the pack? Vahn said that there were kids in there... That meant they had to keep watch over said pack and that meant arranging for more Varia involvement. The mafia did not need to know about non-human species, especially the more scientifically inclined and less moral Famiglias, but leaving them here without leadership was asking for trouble.

Tracking his partner's trail was easy; would have been even if he wasn't a Storm. Mists shed Flame regardless, leaving sparkles of personality and ideas floating around in their wake, but picking up his partner's trail when made obvious was something he could have done blind. With sight he could also see that there was a defined path to follow through the forest. He only needed to make it less obvious that he knew exactly where his partner was at, so his partner could have time to sneak inside heads and investigate while still remaining close enough to not be detected. Maínomai would mark those who needed killed based on what he found but there'd be contingencies in place of the lethal sort too.

Curse broken or not, his partner was still a trouble-magnet.

* * *

It was actually really easy getting information out of the cubs; all Maínomai had to say was that yes, he already knew about werewolves and vampires, the teenager 'supervising' him said something about being a 'non-starter' and suddenly all the younger ones were talking to him at once about what it was like being Cursed to turn into a man-eating wolf-monster once a month. He was still tied up, but that was a laughably easy fix for a Mist so he ignored his bonds and listened to the pre-teens clambering over him as another part of his mind scanned his surroundings and probed the minds of the adults he could sense but hadn't really met.

Getting bashed over the head, tied up and carried off didn't count as a 'meeting' after all.

It seemed the pack didn't have a real alpha at all; he'd been gone for over four years now and dead for three of them. It had apparently been in the newspapers, although any newspaper that documented the death of a werewolf was _definitely_ a specialty import. After his death and the deaths of his top lieutenants –who had been with him– the pack had been held together by the two most aggressive and protective betas, but both had been killed a bit over a year ago and the Pack had fragmented. Most of the adults had wandered off in small groups to stake out their own territories, leaving behind the children and the few adults who could be bothered with them.

Maínomai had a feeling that the 'adult' werewolves remaining were divided between those with guilty consciences and the bullies who preferred pushing children and young teenagers around to dealing with fully-grown adults. There were only three adults in total, and that was if you counted the two eighteen-year-old boys who had hit him over the head; the only 'proper' adult was the woman about two buildings away, arguing with the teenagers about his abduction. She thought Maínomai was a threat, not inherently but because a tourist vanishing when he'd last been seen with the kids was a risk to the Pack. She wanted to drag him away up into the woods and push him off a cliff; a tragic accident but a plausible one.

Maínomai could sympathise with her motives, but not her intended response; protecting the cubs was very admirable and all but he didn't want to die. That would be counterproductive to his plans.

From listening to the cubs, it seemed the old, dead alpha had personally 'recruited' all of them; he'd apparently 'preferred children', which was one of the freakiest things he'd ever heard from a nine-year-old in his _life_ but fitted in with his earlier musings on indoctrination. He did glance sideways at the older teenage girl, just to double-check that there hadn't been any intended innuendo in that statement; she was clearly very sharp and recognised his concern. However she just said that after Turning them –definite capitalisation there– Fenrir Greyback had ignored them until they were fully grown, unless they misbehaved of course. Disobedience got a werewolf a thorough beating regardless of age.

So the kids hadn't experienced more than occasional physical abuse and chronic neglect; Maínomai suspected that wasn't the case for the older girls though, especially when the werewolves running this depleted and crumbling pack were two teenage boys and one older woman. An older woman who actually wasn't in charge at all despite her experience, seeing as the two boys were even now beating her up for not agreeing with them.

Those boys would have to go; they were both petty bullies with no Quality whatsoever. The woman… maybe. It depended what information she had. Getting into werewolf minds turned out to be trickier than Maínomai had thought it would be because the Curse had an actual independent manifestation in their psyches and avoiding it was very, very difficult. He had to limit himself to surface thoughts and not listen in for very long at a time.

Well, Pýř would be here soon and he'd tagged the two teenage murderers –that much he had been able to pick out of their minds– so hopefully things would be wrapped up quickly. Oh… maybe not _that_ quickly; it seemed the bullying werewolves had realised that the woman had a point about Maínomai being a possible threat and were coming this way. Fighting his way out when there were kids in the line of fire _really_ wasn't something he wanted to do, so hopefully he could stall and bluff until his partner showed up.

Wait, how acute were werewolf senses anyway? Could they detect lies? This might not be the most well-thought-out idea he'd ever had…

* * *

Pýř had his senses cranked up as high as he could push them as he ghosted up the hill towards where his partner was being held. He wasn't walking on the trail; better to stick to the woods and leave the path clear of incriminating evidence. He was a scout and tracker and these woods were not at all challenging for him to navigate. The werewolves didn't have a sentry or any actual security system; the only things Pýř could hear were animals emerging from their burrows as evening progressed and a few birds. Oh, and distant shouting from up ahead. Distinctly _angry_ shouting and even at this distance he could sense his partner's horror and guilt.

Something had gone wrong; something his partner was blaming himself for.

Whoever it was shouting had _hurt_ his _partner_.

Red, Storm-flame claws materialised on the ends of Pýř's fingers as he Multiplied strength, speed and agility to dash to his partner's side. The door to the barn barely qualified as an obstacle –he ripped it off its hinges with ease– and paused for the scant instant it took him to process the scene in front of him.

His partner on the floor, tied up with a darkening bruise over his cheekbone and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, the expression on his face one of grief and barely-contained fury with a semi-conscious pre-teen sprawled across his lap; a scruffy teenage thug with bloody hands standing over the sprawled form of a girl about the same age, who was clutching at a deep wound in her side; another teenage thug off to one side holding a small boy not much older than Amadeo, a child who had two visibly broken fingers and was biting his lower lip so hard it was bleeding down his chin.

The teenager holding the child had another of the younger boy's fingers gripped between his own finger and thumb, poised to break another bone.

Pýř lunged, crossing the space between him and the werewolf holding the child in an instant and ripping the arm attached to the offending hand off at the shoulder, catching the child as he was dropped and lowering the boy to the floor before dodging the retaliatory strike by the other teenage thug. Ripping that one's head clean off was _easy_ ; Pýř then ripped the halfway-armless werewolf's head off as well, since superstition indicated that wounds not dealt by silver weapons would be less effective, and threw both headless bodies out of the gaping doorway. A nice bonfire would tidy up all their loose ends, but first he had an idiot to check up on.

Maínomai's cheekbone wasn't broken, but it was still a very nasty bruise and his wrists were chafed from the rope, which Pýř instantly shredded with his Storm-claws. "Idiot," he said harshly, dragging his partner to his feet and roughly checking him over. "No running off and getting kidnapped."

"Sorry," Maínomai said sheepishly, his horror and guilt still very visible behind his eyes. "I was worried about the kids."

Pýř, reminded of their audience, glanced around the barn; every last werewolf –injured ones included– was prostrate on their stomachs on the dirt floor, chins pressed to the ground and wide, wary eyes watching his every move. That was familiar behaviour; it was how most of the Varia's dogs –few though they were– reacted to Tyrant when the Head of Housekeeping was pissed off.

He'd just killed both their alphas in under three seconds; that made _him_ alpha. Fuck.

The Cloud turned back to his partner, who had clearly come to the same conclusion. "I blame you," he told the idiot Mist harshly, cuffing him around the head.

"Did you call Tyrant?" Maínomai asked, hunching in on himself slightly as he glanced down at the little boy in ragged clothing sprawled facedown at their feet, the hand with the broken fingers carefully placed in the small of his back so it wouldn't get accidentally jarred. Clearly this wasn't the first time somebody had done that to him.

"Mammon." The Arcobaleno was after all the specialist on the supernatural; Mammon had agreed that Tyrant was the best person to turn the werewolves over to and had added that there was medication available to remove the Curse aspect of the werewolf transformation. Pýř had requested clarification –for a fee of course– and the Mist Officer had revealed that the medicine meant the 'cured' werewolves were no longer contagious and would not mindlessly attack human beings every full moon; instead they'd just be wolf-shaped. An excellent investment, if apparently a fairly expensive one; the werewolves would be starting out their Housekeeping stint in moderate debt, which would have to be paid off. Tyrant was flying up though and there was a Varia safe house a few hours away, the resident of which was hiring a truck so that the werewolves could be moved down to the airport. All that was going to take a few hours though.

"About the kids…" Maínomai ventured.

"Up," Pýř said sharply; every single one of the werewolves instantly got to their feet and stood as straight as possible with their eyes lowered, including the teenage girl with the messy wound in her side. Definitely abuse victims, the lot of them. The Cloud then turned on his partner. "Explain," he demanded shortly. Maybe setting the dead bodies on fire would improve his mood…

* * *

Maínomai explained to his friend exactly how the situation had happened in a language that he knew the werewolves wouldn't understand; he has been in their heads so he knew which one to use.

His report was flippant, purposefully so, as that way it would make Pýř snort, roll his eyes and swear instead of deciding to kill the rest of the pack of puppies. The snort was a reaction to his abduction and while Maínomai was reasonably certain he wasn't concussed from 'meeting' the recently torn apart teenagers… knocking people out properly was a skill that was a lot harder to master than action films made it out to be. There was no bleeding externally that he was aware of but internally, Maínomai knew his brain had been jarred. He probably would have had a nice knot on his head if he hadn't fixed that almost as soon as it happened. One of the perks of being an Alteration specialist was that he knew his body and could use his Flame to restore his body to how it had been before he'd been bashed over the head. So skull trauma was no issue; brain trauma was still possible though and really, messing with the brain when you didn't even know what had happened to it was a very Stupid idea where concussions and your own brain were involved.

Fixing the trauma to his head meant no headache or pain, so he had been able to snoop in the heads around him without having to actually pay much attention to what was happening. The cubs had been worried and chatty while he was seemingly concussed but really had been mentally elsewhere. The roll of the eyes was towards the woman's plan of getting rid of him; Maínomai hadn't exactly been fond of that idea, more so because to avoid it he'd have had to kill the scum-teenagers in a way that couldn't be explained by anything except 'magic' which as a 'non-starter' he didn't have or couldn't use; they weren't very clear on which of those it was. The very mention of magic had been what caused the Cloud to swear.

So he had stalled and faked out the scum. Or well, he had tried. Lying or not really didn't matter; it had just been an excuse to beat him up, as he had learned from the mind of one of the soon-to-be-dead werewolves that they couldn't really smell lies, just things like fear and such which had to be properly interpreted. And then the youngest kid had come to his defence after one of the teenage scum had hit him. The hit had been hard enough to knock him backwards and he'd probably have to do something about the bruise before Erica saw it. Anyway, Maínomai then continued to explain that apparently due to previous discipline problems the teens decided the youngest was going to get punished. It said something that the two dead werewolves had named this particular punishment and the other werewolves protested it. Hence the various wounds and shouting.

Maínomai had continued to feign helplessness after marking them both for death. Then he dipped into the finger-snapper's mind and found that he hadn't been willing to stop, not when doing so to the stupid-brat was having such an effect on their captive. It was apparently such a power trip that the finger-snapper intended to kill the youngest and their 'guest' as an example with his almost equally depraved buddy, followed by sex with the two teenage females and even that uppity hag that couldn't even discipline the brats properly.

He had not liked those plans and had been a little horrified as the teenage male didn't even see anything _wrong_ with his behaviour. He had been about to break cover and kill those two himself when Pýř had arrived and done it for him.

"So that's what Vahn's 'Aura' is?" Pýř asked.

"Seems like," Maínomai confirmed. "I'm going to go look at the girl's wounds. Maybe Mist-stitch that deep one; do you have any idea about when transport will get here?"

"A couple of hours."

"Enough time to get all of them and us presentable then, including the one working at the store when she gets back. We might have to arrange for her to leave the store later than she would usually, so a bit of work there." He stopped to consider things for a bit. "Do you think Bulldog would want their bodies?"

"I don't see how they'd be different than a normal person's. They're not transformed."

"Ah, good point. I'm going to get them all cleaned up and take care of this bruise. Don't want it obvious that we've been doing something." Maínomai pointedly eyed the blood spatter all over walls, ceiling, people and floor. Tearing scum apart wasn't a clean job, even with Storm Flame claws assisting. Plus the less evidence that a couple of murders or any bloodshed took place here the better; Curses had a bad habit of lingering if there was anything for them to hold onto.

Pýř then told his new and temporary wolf-minions to listen to his friend and get cleaned up. They obeyed, even if Maínomai had to explain that what he did to stitch up the girl's side wasn't exactly magic as they knew it. Fixing his bruise just meant moving the blood back into his veins, although the area was sore and swollen so a Conjured bandage was made, applied and Altered to keep chilly; Sun Flames really didn't work too well on bruises once they'd settled. Not that he could really use said Sun Flames, but various Mist-tricks worked just as well, if not better. He'd normally not Mist-stitch anything but considering how fast werewolves were said to heal and the fact she wasn't bleeding out said that it should be fine after cleaning the wound out properly.

He wanted to do more for the youngest werewolf's fingers, but it was probably for the best to just splint them until someone with greater medical expertise than him looked at them so they'd heal straighter; it would probably involve re-breaking them, possibly multiple times, considering how quickly the other werewolves were healing. Maínomai didn't want to Alter the bone back to one piece and find out he'd done something wrong and accidentally cut off a nerve in his finger somehow. Numbing the pain was a good compromise.

If nothing else, this vacation was very convincing in that he should probably speak to Kuchisake about what all Mammon's commissioned research had produced so far. Information about where, what and who because the bits and pieces he'd picked up from the wolflings suggested whole societies and communities hidden by magic. That was definitely worth looking into, for a variety of reasons; not just because the Varia would soon have werewolves in Housekeeping.

* * *

It hadn't taken very long for the Varia assassins to set up a solid and reliable routine for watching over the Lanza family during the night. In each of the hotels they were visiting Federico had booked a suite and an adjacent room, or two adjacent suites. Nominally it was Pyr and Erica as a married couple sleeping in the suite with their children in the second room with Soleil while Maínomai and Vahn took the other room or suite, but in reality Erica got the double bed to herself, whoever was on watch duty spent their time in the main room of the suite and regularly checked on the children and the other three Varia all slept in the other room or suite, unless of course they were out looking for information. Three of them being Mists meant they could Alter the room and the beds to be larger so there was no issue of space.

Maínomai was sitting in the pre-dawn twilight, having just started his watch and trying to come up with a new travel game to play with Amadeo in the car on their way to Bad Wilbad, when he heard something from the children's' room. A faint scraping sound… like somebody opening the window.

Maínomai had put up enough security on that window that nobody outside should have even realised it _existed_ let alone been able to _open_ it. Ghosting to his feet, he drifted over to the slightly ajar door between the sitting room and the double room and glanced through the crack.

Pale skin –too pale– a thick dark red coat that covered the intruder from neck to wrist to calf –scaly boots on his feet– fangs – _vampire_ – standing over the cot –it was after _his daughter_ –

Maínomai was through the door in an instant –literally _through_ the door– in a burst of Altered speed, swinging the usually-forgotten Bonded machete that lived in the lining of his uniform jacket at the vampire's neck. The _thing_ moved quickly – _too quickly_ – _not quick enough_ –Maínomai twisted in midair, imposing a quick and dirty Territory around himself and his target– _die_ _ **monster**_ _diediedie!_

Inside the Territory he didn't have to hold off on using his Flames; the headless body was swiftly burned away to almost nothing and Maínomai made a point to keep the ashes from incinerating the head separate from the rest. He wasn't sure how much vampires could regenerate, but scattering the ashes over two separate bodies of water could not _possibly_ hurt.

Maínomai only collapsed the Territory after Conjuring two airtight plastic boxes to store the ashes in, at which point he went directly over to the window, closing it and adding a new layer of security aimed specifically at vampires. Then he approached the cot and lifted his daughter out. Serena didn't wake, didn't even stir; Maínomai carried her and the two boxes back into the sitting room and carefully lay down on the couch, the infant clutched against his chest.

 _His precious daughter had nearly died –the security had been inadequate– could sudden infant death syndrome be vampire related –why had the vampire been unaffected by his Alteration-based security? Did Flame-illusions only work on people who had Flames to begin with? How could he change his methods so that vampires couldn't get in –his daughter nearly died– what kind of monster ate_ children…

… wait, better question, did vampires have sub-species? Lots of different myths featured child eating monsters and that was somehow more terrifying to think about now. Varcolaci had ways to not leave a wound according to legend but all those that his father had slain had left the same identifying marks to their kills and had the ability to turn people; Varcolaci happened to become such due to a person committing suicide, being born from an unbaptised child's soul or by inheriting it from some ancestor according to his home country's folklore. Still child-eating monsters...

He was still lying there and staring blankly at the ceiling when Amadeo woke up shortly after seven; it took Erica sitting beside him and playing with his hair to help him surface in the real world again.

* * *

Before Maínomai had gotten Erica pregnant, Pýř had visited his cousin every winter in the weeks after New Year. It was quiet then, not enough missions having come in for a campaign to be set up and there were few enough people in and around the Varia Mansion that leaving his partner to his own devices for up to a fortnight was not doomed to disaster. He hadn't been able to go this year though, because with Serena being born, the changes in scheduling and Maínomai having his Curse broken there had been too much to do and no time to visit family. He'd written to his cousin at Christmas to let her know that his partner's family emergencies meant he wouldn't be visiting and hadn't minded all that much; his cousin was Territory –his first Territory in fact– but she took good care of herself and had recently integrated herself into the Varia's logistical network, so he knew she was safe.

Despite her living in an area he now knew had werewolves in and around it and the occasional vampire wandering through it.

Dagmar Otten was his mother's sister's daughter and had come to live with him and his mother after his aunt and uncle died in a car accident. He'd liked having her there, as despite his mother's financial situation being rather strained Dagi had given him _purpose_. He'd had someone to protect, somebody who looked up to him. It had made it easier for him to deal with his mother as it wasn't just him being selfish and wanting more, it was Dagi _needing_ more. Needing better. Then his mother had turned her anger and frustration on her niece and Pýř had discovered that having somebody precious to you really _did_ give a person unnatural strength.

Of course then they'd had to get out of town in a hurry because dead bodies had a bad habit of surfacing at unwanted moments –fiction had taught him that much– which had led to him hunting down and blackmailing his father for his cousin's sake. But Dagmar was an adult now, with her own delivery business that the Varia used because it had a Quality setup and properly confidential contracts. Pýř was very proud of how far she'd come.

Being able to visit in the summer was an unexpected gift and Pýř was very grateful that Erica had chosen this part of Germany to take a holiday in. He didn't think she'd done it on purpose… but if she had then he owed her something nice. He probably owed her something nice anyway, because she would be going back to work in September and would be doing everything in her power to mitigate Iemitsu's oblivious destruction of the CEDEF.

Dagi had made him tea and served it with cream and _Kluntje_ , like they'd had as children. Pýř had a secret weakness for sugar and while he could drink tea brewed in a dozen different ways, he had always liked sweet tea better than any other kind.

He sipped his tea as his cousin sat opposite him and drank her own tea; he and Dagi had never felt the need to talk much. They simply enjoyed each-other's company, only speaking if there were questions that needed answering or facts to share. You didn't need to talk about anything in order to spend time with someone, something his partner sometimes forgot.

"I need a gift for a friend," he told his cousin in Mooring, the language of their childhood.

Dagi tilted her chin up curiously, easily deducing that the 'friend' was female because Pýř would never ask her help in finding a suitable gift for any of his male colleagues.

"Her maternity leave finishes soon and her boss is a privileged incompetent," Pýř explained, "but she keeps the company on its feet and in good condition." Even while on maternity leave Erica had been doing piece-work for the CEDEF, answering queries from Keunmul Squad and assisting Lal Mirch with various little projects. She truly was Vongola in the best possible way and had excellent Quality.

He also wanted her to accept his protection, become his Territory, and for Pýř that involved gift-giving. Not just the giving of things he'd knitted, which were mostly a way to pass the time and use the skills his grandmother had taught him, but useful and meaningful gifts. He'd given Maínomai the machete his partner had Bound into his Varia jacket –into all his Varia jackets– and he wanted to give Erica something equally valuable. But Erica wasn't really a person who used things or owned things; her children were her heart and most of what she liked involved food, company and feeling useful.

Rains. So selfless. So irritating to shop for.

"Clothing," Dagi suggested. Pýř considered it. The CEDEF secretarial uniform was painfully generic, just a black suit with a knee-length skirt, but if he bought really good-quality ones and paid to have them properly treated to be Flame-resistant…

Or boots. He could arrange for her to get a pair of proper boots. They'd have to be ankle boots with high heels since she was working in a fancy office, but they'd still be better than what she was currently wearing and Maínomai had mentioned giving her numerous foot massages while they were dating so she certainly _needed_ better footwear.

"Shoes?" He checked.

Dagi smiled. "Good plan."

Well now that pressing dilemma was dealt with he could relax properly and share a few stories of what he'd been getting up to since his last visit. All suitably censored so no names were revealed, of course.

* * *

"Is this your idea of a joke, Myron?"

Maínomai turned around to see Ghul stalking towards him across the hotel atrium in all her ghoulish glory, deep purple dress swishing dramatically and a bouquet of twelve dried deep red roses gripped in a pale hand.

"Is what my idea of a joke, Soleil?"

"This," Ghul said, holding up the bouquet in one hand and thrusting an open envelope at him with the other; "if it is I really do not appreciate it; you really should have better taste in poetry!"

Maínomai pulled the folded sheet of vellum out of the envelope and blinked at the florid calligraphy scrawled across the page. Then the words registered and his lips twitched.

"Why, do you not appreciate being compared to a night-blooming orchid? Or being called," he cleared his throat, "'as fair and pale as the moon, driving men to madness with your beauty'?"

Ghul hit him with the dried flower bouquet. "So this wasn't your idea of a joke?"

"No; I know better than to give you roses," Maínomai assured his fellow assassin. Ghul didn't like roses for some reason or other, not even when growing in gardens; lilies and chrysanthemums on the other hand he rather appreciated.

"Aloys only has eyes for his wife," Ghul went on, citing Pýř's cover identity, "Vahn has better taste and this is not at all Erica's style of joke. So I have a secret admirer."

"How did they know to deliver the bouquet to the hotel?" Maínomai wondered. "We showed up here last night."

Ghul stiffened in a way that had everything to do with having it insinuated that he had picked up a tail somehow. "I'll ask Vahn if he's noticed anybody," the assassin said vaguely, tossing the bouquet on a chair before stalking off towards the breakfast room.

Maínomai followed his colleague; a stalker managing to go unnoticed was rather worrying, considering they were Varia assassins and playing bodyguard to Erica and her children. They'd have to increase their vigilance; after last week's close call with the child-eating vampire Maínomai had seriously stepped up the level of the security Alterations on the hotel rooms –they were nice hotels but he was paranoid about any and all draughts based on superstition alone– but this was a holiday, so they were spending most of their time out and about. Well, at least Vahn would get to show off a bit…

* * *

Two days later all four assassins were sitting in the main room of the suite in the hotel and spa in Bad Herrenalb, frowning at the bouquet of deadly nightshade and accompanying poem comparing Soleil's hair to blood, her figure to a willow tree and, most peculiarly, her eyes to beer. 'Dark and intoxicating as strong ale' was not really the usual simile for a lady's eyes after all. It was also the third morning in a row they'd woken up to the staff delivering flowers, which was alarming considering they'd only checked into _this_ hotel the previous afternoon.

"The only traces on the bouquet are on the outside of the wrapping and are from the hotel staff who put it in the room in the first place," Vahn said, frowning angrily. "The flowers themselves were picked by hand, but whoever picked them didn't leave any traces."

"That's odd," Maínomai mused. "Not even skin tags or faint Flame-shadows?"

"No, _nothing_ except the bruising on the flower stems, which is too indistinct for fingerprints," Vahn said, tugging at his hair in frustration.

"Not even Aura traces?" Ghul asked.

Vahn paused then frowned. "There _are_ Aura traces," he said eventually, "but they're… odd. Grey. Like the dead spots in Maínomai's Aura, but superficial. They overlap with the finger-marks on the flower stems though."

Maínomai however had been struck by the word 'dead' and was in the midst of a revelation. "Could Ghul's elusive admirer be a vampire?" He asked.

"Why?" Pýř asked after a pause.

"Well, Vahn said the grey looked dead and he wouldn't call it that unless that was how it was, so what kind of thing doesn't have Flames and looks dead _other_ than vampires?" Maínomai asked. "It's the only option I can think of, no matter how impossible it seems." Or how terrible their luck with the supernatural on this vacation was; so many years spent Cursed and travelling the world for missions or on vacation and _now_ was the point that they attracted all these pests.

"It would explain why all the bouquets were delivered in the morning; a vampire could only deliver them during the night or early morning," Vahn pondered.

"If my shadow is a leech, we kill it," Ghul said with unusual directness. "I am not prey."

"If you go for a walk this evening you might draw it out," Pýř suggested. "Take Maínomai with you." Because Maínomai had a machete and was the only one among them with vampire experience, no matter how brief or recent it had been. Although he was trying not to think about that, because the holes it had exposed in his security were still giving him nightmares even though he had since fixed them.

* * *

Pýř was keeping a close watch on his partner and subordinate as they took a walk and made it look as natural as possible. Which involved discussing French literature and the influence that French literature had on English literature as they wandered; there was apparently lots of history involved, which Ghul was happy to elaborate on. Pýř quickly learned to tune that out as he trailed behind and above them.

Quickly enough –within a quarter of an hour after sundown– Pýř noticed someone head almost directly towards part of his squad. Their intent was rather obvious, the Cloud felt. Also rather creepy as he could feel _some_ sort of energy within the vampire that was peculiar and deeply disturbing, as was their being completely void of Flames. He could almost see how he'd missed the existence of the supernatural before and he wasn't happy about it; when you were sensing with Flames your ability to observe slid _around_ the void, editing it out. It took awareness that the void was _there_ to notice it properly and something about it made you not _want_ to see it.

He texted his partner: Incoming straight at you. Moving closer to observe.

Seeing the vampire in person from his perch on a roof-ridge was… interesting. Even if he hadn't been able to sense the vague wrongness, Pýř would probably have suspected there was something seriously wrong with that specific individual the moment he laid eyes on him.

He was pale and sallow, worse than even Vongola R&D's researchers, with dark hair slicked back in a low ponytail and wearing a silk-lined opera coat over a tuxedo made of black suede, pointy-toed and shiny black boots on his feet. Pýř had never seen anything so ridiculously cliché in his life and had to take a deep breath to keep himself from laughing out loud at the mental image of Ghul-as-Soleil and this nutcase wandering down a street arm in arm. Well, they'd certainly match…

… if the vampire wasn't a soulless corpse inhabited by some kind of never-human _thing_ that preyed on humanity, of course.

Watching the operatic vampire collide with Ghul and his partner at the corner where the roads met was like watching a train wreck, or possibly one of those ridiculous comic farces where everything went wrong in perfectly the right way for the chaos to continue spiralling outwards. To start with Ghul was the first to notice the vampire but just as he was about to do something unpleasant to it, the vampire caught the goth's eyes somehow and all the fight went out of Soleil's body. She just stood there like a doll, breathing deep and even as the vampire lunged for Maínomai.

"Fear not, fair maiden! I shall rescue you from the oafish attentions of this ignoramus!" Declared the vampire as he did so, giving the whole exchange the look of a piece of street theatre. Well, that might explain how he'd managed to get away with this particular style of kill for so long.

His partner dodged gracefully, produced his machete out of nowhere like the conjuring trick it was and charged, swinging accurately towards the vampire's neck even as he flung a chain of Alterations at his target. The vampire dodged somehow, the Alterations sliding off him like water droplets as he bent himself in a way the human body could _not_ achieve in order to avoid decapitation. Ghul was still just standing there like a lemon, but Pýř could sense the immobilised Mist's Flames were agitated so it was likely only a matter of time before he broke free of whatever had been done to him.

"Cease your struggles, varlet! My dark beauty deserves far better than the likes of you!" The vampire declaimed, knocking the blade from Maínomami's hand in a very professional manner. Pýř considered intervening, but decided against it. His partner still had everything in hand and hadn't pulled out any of the big guns yet.

The vampire then attempted to rip Maínomai's throat open, but clawed fingers swung through his partner's neck like smoke. The vampire then changed his angle of attack in an instant, swiftly grapping Maínomai's jacket by the sleeve and collar and tossing him up and away, to soar through the air and land in a fountain in the square nearly twenty metres away.

Any Latent would have been killed instantly, but Maínomai was up and out of the water in a moment. However the vampire used that moment to turn on Ghul and bite down on the currently-a-woman's neck.

For all of two seconds it looked like Ghul was going to be listed as the Varia's first vampire casualty, then the goth's entire body Altered into red fluid and _launched_ itself down the vampire's throat. There was another second's pause, in which Maínomai got back to within three metres of the vampire which was standing unnaturally still and blinking.

Then the vampire exploded.

Red droplets splattered _everywhere_ in a six metre radius, painting the walls of the alley the vampire had arrived down in a spray of scarlet and covering the wider cobbled street and the buildings opposite in bloody spatter. Maínomai had managed to shield his eyes with one arm but the rest of him that was facing the ex-vampire was painted red.

Then about half of the spray reversed trajectory, returning to the spot the vampire had been standing in and coalesced back into a very disgruntled Ghul, who had a fanged bite-mark on her neck and her hair dishevelled.

Pýř dropped down from his rooftop to escort the very upset goth back to the hotel, leaving Maínomai to deal with the cleanup; cleanup which would involve carefully incinerating every last bit of that bloody splatter, just to make sure.

Seeing a theatrical vampire get the drop on Ghul had definitely been the funniest thing to happen so far on this holiday though.

* * *

September came far too fast and far too slow. Pýř's expectations for the havoc Marvel Squad could cause had been surpassed, as the insanity was still going strong even after Hawkeye had recovered and been sent on an easy mission with his Squad in an attempt to lower the levels of chaos. Unfortunately for Squalo, things hadn't happened like that. In fact it looked as though the chaos would continue until everyone was swamped by September's mission demands and forced to cut back on the recreational sabotage.

It was the sort of chaos that Maínomai enjoyed and his partner had happily plunged into it after helping Ghul get revenge on Raas. Ghul had reason for it, although turning Raas into some sort of cat-woman cartoon character might have been excessive. It wasn't like the chaos hadn't come with benefits as people were able to use it as an opportunity to practice skills and the mooks and apprentices had learned new things either through observation or first-hand practice. Also his partner had been in a vicious mood, which had appealed to Bel far too much for anyone to be truly safe. Maínomai said he was 'testing' a few ideas which were non-lethal but no less cruel or entertaining to watch. Pýř was rather certain that his partner was just experimenting so he could devise the worst possible revenge for Iemitsu to suffer.

Or the one which would have the most dramatic effect on his lifestyle.

It was a little hard to tell.

They did take the occasional break from the madhouse. Mostly to visit the children –twice so far after the vacation– and once to go shoe-shopping for the boots. It probably said something about how bad Erica needed them that her former lover remembered not only her shoe size but the actual shape of her foot, at least generally. Maínomai then decided to Alter the boots so that they would always be comfortable even after a long day in the office. That mention of the office had clearly reminded the Mist of Iemitsu's existence and effects of it, as Maínomai had then decided that Erica probably needed something to help her ignore Iemitsu's oppressive aura; it would be one less cause of stress, so Pýř agreed to pay for it once a suitable piece of jewellery was found.

Now the only issue would be getting her to accept the gifts, especially if he decided to upgrade the rest of her wardrobe. She probably wouldn't refuse the shoes if presented in the right light, but replacing her office-wear would be seen as 'too much.' Which would give her grounds to refuse, so he had to word things so she wouldn't feel able to. Maybe he should break-in and do things that way?

First though, the shoes.

* * *

Erica wasn't looking forward to going back to work. There were many reasons for her reluctance: that her boss had not at any point noticed that she was not in the office was one of them; that her boss was an emotionally and spiritually abusive arse was another. Narcissism was one of the disorders which made a Sky's Flames Toxic, which was a recognised condition where a Sky either actively repelled Guardian candidates through having bonding requirements that were consistently damaging to the people trying to reach out to them or who _did_ manage to bond, but then used the bond to twist their Guardians into broken mockeries of themselves.

Toxic Skies were warped and their Harmony tried to warp everybody around them to match; the only reason Iemitsu had only driven people away rather than driving them completely insane was that the narcissism combined with his obviously prestigious and elevated position made him fairly self-contained and self-absorbed. He didn't really pay enough attention to the people around him to warp them, so he just made them uncomfortable.

Unless he was angry, at which point he drove people to breakdowns.

Which had not happened recently, but there had been six cases back when Massimo was murdered and two when Enrico had been shot.

So no, Erica wasn't looking forward to returning to work, even though being Varia as well as CEDEF meant she got paid twice. No amount of money could possibly compensate for what she had to sacrifice working under her idiot cousin.

She was rearranging the wardrobe in her apartment and dismantling the traps left by the Varia who had up until recently been living there –when she found out which of them had left a _live_ knife-trap in the fridge she was going to have _words_ with them– when there was a knock at the door.

It was, perhaps not unexpectedly, Maínomai and Pýř.

"Hi Erica! I thought we should come over and visit before you get snowed under by work again and since September's _really_ busy for us too, we probably won't be able to get away for six weeks either," her best friend babbled happily, wrapping her in a hug. "Oh and we brought presents! Since it's the end of your maternity leave and you're going back to work so we thought you'd need cheering up."

"That's very kind of you, Maínomai," Erica said warmly, hugging him back before smiling at Pýř and leading the way into the kitchen to serve drinks.

"Somebody trapped your fridge?" The Cloud asked, running a professional eye over the faint nicks in the tiles opposite said fridge and the coil of wire sitting on the counter with eight small blades.

"Yes they did and when I find out who it was we are going to have _words_ ," Erica said fiercely, putting a kettle of water on the hob to boil and hunting in her cupboards for tea. It would probably amuse people to learn that the Varia were really _big_ on tea for an Italian mafia organisation; last year she'd had all of three blends in her apartment's cupboards, two of them herbal and in teabags, but now there were _eight_ different types, seven of them loose-leaf and all of them rather expensive. Only one of her original tea brands had survived and that was the one that hadn't been bought from a shop; the full-bodied black tea that Xanxus liked so much and had got her hooked on as a teenager, a fairly rare type that the Vongola traded with the Triads for. The packaging was all in Chinese and Erica only knew Japanese, so she could only make vague guesses at what the kanji meant.

It was damn good tea though; she'd make that for herself and Pýř and do a pot of the fancy white tea for Maínomai, because he'd appreciate it. Maínomai would drink any kind of tea at all but he preferred the lighter blends with less caffeine in them and a more delicate flavour; Pýř likewise could drink anything but preferred his tea dark and very sweet.

Erica reached for the packet of black tea and paused, her fingers centimetres from the wrapping. "Pýř?"

The Cloud came up behind her.

"Is the tea clean?" She had picked up quite a lot of Varia culture despite never actually setting foot in the building or openly interacting with the Independent Assassination Squad as one of them, and one of the things she'd noticed was that the Varia tended to poison or trap anything and everything to make sure their peers were paying attention, or even just to ensure things left in communal areas didn't get stolen by other people.

Pýř frowned, gently elbowing her out of the way as his fingertips lit up scarlet and he reached into the cupboard towards one, two, three, four, _five_ of the various packets, including the one she'd been about to pick up. "Yes," he confirmed in German, stepping back so she could get on with making the tea.

"Thank-you."

"Wait, they didn't take down all the traps when they left?" Maínomai asked indignantly. "That's just inconsiderate! Never mind dangerous! Not that you're not awesomely competent," he added hastily, "but you live alone! If something did go wrong it could take hours for anybody to find you!"

"I'll check," Pýř said firmly, marching out of the kitchen.

"When I get back I'm going to hunt down Keunmul and make sure they understand this really is not on," Maínomai said fiercely, walking around the table to hug her again, possibly to reassure himself that she was in fact still in one piece.

Erica had a feeling that Keunmul Squad _had_ disassembled all their traps after leaving; the thing was, alongside coming off her CEDEF maternity leave she was _also_ coming off her Varia-infiltrator maternity leave so it was entirely possible that the Captain had booby-trapped her apartment to make sure she hadn't been slacking off. It was the sort of thing he would do, or order somebody else to do. Probably somebody in Information if Squalo hadn't done it in person; she was under no illusions that her Officer was the only person who read her reports.

If this was the awareness test there would probably a fitness test coming up soon; she'd have to improve her exercise regime. Squalo did make allowances for her being undercover rather than in the field but that didn't mean she was allowed to slack off. Not being able to meet the admittedly lax Varia standards for Mists would be terrible, despite her being a Rain.

However rather than share this, Erica simply boiled the kettle and made the tea; she was undercover and secrets were easier to keep the fewer people knew them, so that she was as Varia as the father of her daughter would have to wait. Hopefully Xanxus would be defrosted soon –Federico seemed to be finally getting it into Nono's head that the Family rather _needed_ him– and then changes could be made. Her little brother was currently Iemitsu's apprentice –not that Iemitsu knew that the boy he'd re-named 'Basil' had Vongola blood– and had turned thirteen in July, so in a few more years he'd be old enough to take over provided there were enough powerful and influential people vouching for him.

People like Xanxus, who would see having a teenage Rain in charge of the CEDEF as a significant improvement on a Toxic Sky. After all, hadn't Squalo been a teenager when he took over the Varia? That had certainly worked out very well for the Family, even though having Xanxus would have been better.

Unfortunately the more established Houses had Views about putting young, competent people in charge over well-established, politically-minded cronies, but the CEDEF was supposed to be independent of the Vongola and Basil _was_ Iemitsu's apprentice, making him technically the man's successor. All that had to happen was the idiot having a fatal 'accident' and then Basil would be in charge, initially as an interim measure but if he could stay on top of things then he would get a confirmation of his new role rather than be replaced. A Boss's chosen successor was always the first choice to replace him after all.

If Xanxus wasn't revived by the time Benvenuto was fifteen then Erica was going to orchestrate that accident, consequences be damned. Her baby brother already had all the required knowledge to run the CEDEF; all he lacked was influence and respect. He was laying low and not revealing his true intelligence or his abilities in using Flames to prevent Iemistu from feeling threatened, but it wouldn't take him long to put his underlings in their places should he suddenly find himself without a boss.

She was just pouring the tea as Pýř returned to the kitchen, looking rather disgruntled. "All clean now," he grunted, sitting down and accepting the mug she handed him.

"Thank-you; did anybody know you were intending to visit me today?"

"We didn't make a secret of it," Maínomai admitted.

"Then the traps might have been intended as a prank on you rather than on me," Erica suggested, not wanting to inflict an angry Storm-Cloud on the probably-innocent Keunmul Squad.

"Hn," Pýř grunted, subsiding slightly as he cradled his tea in both hands.

"So it really could have been anybody," Maínomai agreed with a grimace, "especially with the prank war Marvel started still going strong."

"Now I'm living here again I can put up my own security," Erica reassured them both, handing Maínomai his tea and pouring her own cup. "I've had a lot of time to think over the past year and I've talked to a few different people, so as long as Maínomai helps me with embedding a few Clauses I don't think I'll have this problem again."

Pýř grunted again, but a more positive grunt. His shoulders also loosened slightly, which was promising. Erica knew Clouds –her brother Ruggero was one as were a few of her cousins– and she had noticed that her best friend's Squad Leader and partner was getting attached to _her_ as well as to her children.

The Vongola party line might have been that Clouds drifted, caring about nothing, but that was a dirty lie; Clouds cared too much. Most of them knew it too, so they made an effort _not_ to get attached until they were sure that they _wanted_ to.

Why the entire mafia insisted on the 'drifting Cloud' archetype _while simultaneously_ recognising that Clouds were incredibly possessive and devoted to their chosen Territory was just… stupid. Proper capital-letter Stupid; Clouds didn't drift, they _patrolled_. There was a very major difference.

Erica was actually rather flattered that Pýř seemed to be contemplating adding her to his Territory, but she was also cautious; having a protective Cloud wandering by at random moments would make it harder for her to keep her responsibilities as Changeling quiet. Pýř would of course keep it a secret if he found out –he _was_ Varia and very loyal to Xanxus– but he'd act differently and that might get spotted.

Oh well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

"I'm sure I heard a mention of presents," she said, to change the subject and hopefully curtail any more brooding.

"Oh! Yes! Presents!" Maínomai exclaimed, perking up. "I got you a bracelet and Altered it so that when you're wearing it you can completely ignore Iemitsu's Flames. I know he barely notices you anyway, but this way you'll get less stressed by him and every little helps." He produced a jewellery box and handed it across the table.

Erica opened the box and her jaw dropped slightly at the elegant gold cuff with subtle, curving engravings. "Oh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed; she didn't usually wear much jewellery but this was _useful_ jewellery and could easily be hidden inside the cuff of her blouse while she was at work. It had a neat little locking mechanism too, rather than just slipping on over her hand, so it would fit snugly around her arm and not slide out at an inopportune moment.

Pýř then handed her a box, watching her intently. Erica accepted the gift carefully; Clouds did _not_ do casual gifts. They just _didn't_ ; she'd never got a birthday _or_ Christmas present from _any_ of her Cloud-cousins. Othello on the other hand had always got her something small but very suitable on both birthdays _and_ Christmases, despite his being 'just' one of her Uncle Federico's Guardians and only seeing her occasionally.

If this present was from Pýř… then accepting it meant accepting _him_ as a Cloud invested in her wellbeing. Othello had 'claimed' her because she was Vongola and Federico's only niece –Federico had always doted on her more than her brothers purely because she was female– but Pýř was claiming her _personally_ , like he'd already claimed Serena.

Probably hadn't claimed Amadeo yet, but it would probably happen eventually.

Erica opened the box. It contained a really _beautiful_ pair of low-heeled ankle boots in sleek black leather; she instantly kicked off a slipper and tried one on.

Pýř rose from his chair and paused. "May I?" He asked.

Erica handed him the box. "If you want."

The Cloud knelt on her kitchen floor and put the very beautiful boots on her feet, checking the fit and tightening the laces. "There," he said eventually, getting to his feet again and offering her a hand up. Erica accepted it, then walked around the kitchen in her new shoes. They were decadently comfortable; how was that possible?

"These are the most comfortable shoes I have _ever_ worn," she admitted, stopping in front of Pýř and beaming up at him. "I'll definitely be wearing them to work; probably everywhere else as well."

"Good," Pýř said firmly. Erica decided to be daring and hugged the Storm-Cloud, telegraphing her intent to do so; he could have got out of the way if he had wanted to, but didn't.

"Thank-you," she said sincerely, finally pulling away; she didn't just mean for the shoes, but she had a feeling Pýř would pick up on the subtext just fine. He was Varia Quality after all.

Well, after getting back from Germany the previous month and her maternity leave ending yesterday, her vacation was now well and truly over.

* * *

Translations 

Maus = mouse (German); in German all nouns are capitalised.

Vati = dad (German)

Varcolaci = type of vampire (Romanian)

Keunmul Squad are mentioned in a previous chapter.


	9. Omake: Marvellous Mess

The long-awated omake! This starts right after Erica goes on holiday, concurrent to most of the previous chapter.

Co-written with the marvellous Insane Scriptist.

* * *

Vengeance is ours, sayeth Marvel Squad!

Fooling Medical was no easy trick, especially when Medical would look for signs of Flame usage, Curses and more. However Hawkeye could manage it. It wasn't easy, and he wasn't going to even _think_ about how he'd done it in case some Mist picked up on those thoughts. He was just going to lie in his comfortable bed and cough and sneeze through all the tissues he had on his nightstand. Any actor needed props.

Pýř wasn't usually one to cause trouble, being more likely to clean up after his partner's messes than create his own, but Hawkeye did owe his fellow Cloud for getting his Mist to remove the jacket-curse, even if it apparently wasn't actually a proper Curse. As Pýř spent most of his time around Mists, this could possibly be part of a larger Mist conspiracy. It might be a way to get at Ottabio in preparation for something else, because Ottabio's faction was good at complicating things for every other Cloud in the Varia and everybody associated with those Clouds.

If that _was_ the case, he was quite willing to lie in bed, pretend to be feverish and fake illness for the better part of two weeks. It'd take time for the Mists to act as Ottabio and his faction would need to be well and truly distracted. It was after all only just of his Squad to avenge his 'illness' by taking revenge on the guy who had spread it to him.

* * *

Bel was probably the first Officer to notice that Marvel Squad was without management. If it had been any other Officer like the Shark or even the Okama, the Officer would have probably taken a more 'mature' route and tried to defuse the impending chaos. Not dragged his Division happily into it and escalated it to slightly ridiculous levels.

Bel had been speaking with Sarja as Oversight and Bel's Manservant spoke of other things nearby when he noticed Spiderman walking past, carrying several packages of balloons. Bel instantly left Sarja and caught the Cloud within his line of sight. "Water bombs?" Bel asked.

"With Mist-Glitter." Spiderman confirmed, nodding.

"We'll aim for the castle and its inhabitants." Patriot added, coming around a corner with Hulk and a few Mists, including the glittery one that the Okama was fond of.

"A siege?" Bel considered, absolutely delighted with the idea. "Sarja, Manservant, we shall siege the castle! Muster our soldiers! Oversight, do you join the Prince or not?"

"My eyes and I shall serve the Prince." The Mist replied. Good, they had scouts! Stealth scouts!

"Excellent. Now we just need the ballistae and catapults! It shall be a proper siege, the Prince commands it!"

* * *

Squalo learned of the defection of the entire Storm Division to Marvel Squad's signature madness later, but still earlier than the rest of the Officers except for maybe Mammon, whose mysterious absence was actually slightly suspicious. Squalo and Glace had been discussing who was in and who was out, stopping for a bit to wonder why Gwasgedd was out on a mission when she generally avoided taking missions in July and August; she favoured those months for the personal development of her Squad in preparation for the surge of missions that came in every September.

And that was when the window in Squalo's office shattered; the Rains emerged from where they'd dived behind the desk as Spiderman uncurled from a cannonball position and, ignoring both Rains, went to yell through the broken window and shattered fixings that the cannon's aim was off so they hit the wrong office.

"VOI! What do you think you're doing! You're replacing my window!" Squalo yelled. His window, like most of the Varia's, was made of several layers of bulletproof glass, held in place with grate-like metal fixtures. They weren't easy to break, but it looked like Marvel Squad had managed it. Using a Cloud as a projectile had probably helped there…

"Within the hour," Spiderman promised, giving them a double thumbs-up before climbing out of Squalo's window and down the stone wall headfirst like his comic book namesake could.

"They are attacking the castle with medieval siege equipment and artillery." Glace observed aloud, drawing Squalo's attention to the scenery beyond Marvel's gravity-defying Cloud. "Is that Bel down there? Near the catapults."

Silently Squalo searched and then spotted Bel's blond hair. "Voi! Don't attack me or my Rains!" Squalo yelled at the younger Officer through his broken window.

Squalo watched as Bel found another person to project the teenage Officer's voice. "Men, the Shark has spoken and he and the Rain Division are off-limits like Medical and Housekeeping! Anyone else is either with us or fair game!"

"That is not what I meant!" Squalo bellowed back, but it probably wasn't heard clearly over the assembled Varia's cheers.

* * *

It was barely two minutes later that Hulk showed up in Squalo's office with a broom, dustpan and cardboard box. The quiet Sun in the green zentai suit then calmly swept up the scattered glass and emptied it into the box he'd brought, picking up the twisted bits of metal as he went. Squalo and Glace contributed by picking up the paperwork stacks that had glass on them and tipping the shards into the box, which Hulk had helpfully placed right next to the desk. Once all of the larger pieces had been swept up and the mangled remnants of the fixings had been removed from around the window, Hulk then used a Sun-trick on the floor and desk to scoop up all the remaining tiny glass flecks and left again, dragging the box behind him.

"Sometimes I wonder why Hulk ever joined Marvel," Glace said, shuffling a stack of reports, "and then I remember that I actually don't have a clue what he looks like."

Squalo snorted; Hulk was just as much of a nutcase as the other members of Marvel, he was just quieter and therefore harder to anticipate. Hawkeye had it down to an art; Squalo had heard the archer tell his subordinates 'no you can't, stop thinking that' on far too many occasions to count. How he read them through the spandex and body armour was a mystery.

Speaking of… "Where the hell is Hawkeye?" The Rain Officer asked as there was a thundering of running feet in the hallway outside the office, the muffled sound of Ottabio shouting and a distant gleeful bellowing that sounded suspiciously like Patriot.

Glace stilled. "He wasn't at breakfast," the General Manager said slowly, "and Patriot requisitioned three boxes of tissues from Housekeeping in his name; he might have come down with something."

Both Rains were silently contemplating the consequences of Hawkeye not being available to moderate his Squad when Hulk and Iron Man walked into the office, carrying a large pane of bulletproof glass between them.

"You guys ready?" Chirped Spiderman from outside the window, where he was kneeling on the wall with a Varia-standard metal grating hanging from one fist and a screwdriver twirling between the fingers of his other hand.

"Give us a mo', Spidey!" Iron Man said easily, hefting the windowpane into place then leaving Hulk to hold it still as he produced a box of suspiciously used-looking screws from his utility belt. "Right, ready!"

Squalo ignored them; Housekeeping did not keep spares of the window panes or grating fixtures on hand and he refused to contemplate where they'd got the replacements from, because if he did he'd have to do something about it. His window would be back to normal soon and then he could forget about the whole ridiculousness going on outside for a few hours.

* * *

Outside of the sanctity of the Rain Office –now sporting a bright red 'NO ACCESS' sign on the door– a gentle but inexorable escalation of unrelentingly silly pranks expanded to fill the building, most of them targeted at those members of Cloud Division who had not defected elsewhere. Mist-glitter water bombs were launched from the siege equipment outside and phased through the walls –courtesy of the Mists under Bel's command– to explode over people inside the castle; the Cloud Office was invaded by garden gnomes; ACME anvils fell from random patches of ceiling to trap those caught underneath; an unidentifiable individual wearing fully covering black knitwear with neatly snipped eyeholes snuck around the building throwing _real_ custard pies in people's faces; doorknobs were electrified –non-lethally– and the entire main staircase reversed direction, so it was only possible to go upstairs by walking downwards and vice-versa.

By lunchtime a third of Lightning Division, over half the Mists currently in the building and almost all of the Suns not belonging to Medical had defected outside, prompting Housekeeping to set up a buffet table in the garden. Of course, that some bright spark had trapped the dining halls so that all the tables and chairs were now sitting on the ceiling might _possibly_ have had a bearing on that decision, but it wasn't like those responsible for preparing the food were in any way inconvenienced by the change in venue.

Bel was having the time of his life: a proper military command, laying siege to a castle, a chance to get back at that uppity peasant Ottabio –oh yes the Prince knew _all_ about how the man wanted to get rid of him– and all without having to give up food that was up to a properly royal standard! Suitably buoyed up by his excellent meal, the Prince called upon his Military Advisers for a Council of War.

"The important thing," Patriot insisted, "is not to escalate too quickly. This is a siege, not a Blitzkrieg, so we have to draw it out and gradually increase the pressure. We also _have_ to keep it non-lethal."

Bel wasn't too fond of non-lethal, but he recognised that Marvel Squad preferred to keep things that way outside of missions and he was wary enough of the Immortal Squad's reputation not to try and subvert that condition. Bad, _bad,_ _ **bad**_ things happened to people who tried to hide lethal tricks underneath Marvel Squad's flashy and humiliating pranks. Besides, non-lethal did have its advantages: they were a lot harder to detect and since Tyrant considered them 'harmless', you could carry on with impunity for a whole lot longer and not worry about upsetting Housekeeping.

"If it's going to be a slow escalation we need to hold off on Flame-pranks for a bit," Oversight said matter-of-factly, sprinkling birdseed on the ground for the pigeons. "We also need suggestion boards, so that everybody can contribute and we can set up proper teams to do infiltration runs."

"I will co-ordinate," Manservant said, very appropriately; as it was a royal siege a royal manservant should be the person taking care of all the details!

"Ushishishi! The Prince will ensure that we are properly supplied!" The whole point of earning money was to have fun with it and his allowance from the Zabini meant he could invest in some magical pranking tools as well… oh, this was going to be _fun_!

* * *

The second day in what would later be called 'the Marvellous Mess' began with Ottabio storming out of his suite shortly after six in his pyjamas, covered in honey and feathers. Fifteen minutes later _everybody_ had heard about how somebody had balanced a bucket of warm runny honey over the Cloud Officer's bathroom door, disconnected the water and set up a large net of feathers to fall over him when he got into the shower. Breaking into Ottabio's suite of rooms was a lot easier now he lacked an office window.

That the Cloud Officer had got caught in a snare trap on his way down the hall and been found hanging from the ceiling by Wanhope probably had something to do this, as the usually-depressed Mist's guffaws had been impossible to miss and he'd been projecting his amusement hard enough to wake the entire building.

This unusual start to the day had prompted Fuseau to defect to the siege team right after breakfast, dragging his mission partner along with him. Wanhope had a slightly worrying little quirk in one corner of his mouth and was cuddling Mab's newborn son Lonán, whom he was godfather to. He also was not emitting any emotions at all, which was slightly scary as it was suddenly very obvious that the stocky Mist made no noise whatsoever while walking.

"Room fer one more?" the skeletally lean and gender-ambiguously dressed Mist asked cheerfully, a flare gun hanging off one shoulder and a nappy bag off the other.

"Which one?" Spiderman asked from his perch on the underside of the roof poles of the Command Pavilion Bel had ordered the mooks to set up for him.

"Jus' me fer the time bein', as Wanhope's babysittin'; he had a few fun ideas fer later though," Fuseau said, dumping the bag on a camp stool and fishing in his pockets. "Somethin' about collapsin' chairs and fiddlin' with clocks."

The entirety of Marvel Squad –barring of course the absent and bed-bound Hawkeye– turned as one to stare at the white-haired Mist cuddling a week-old baby to his chest.

"Wanhope does pranks?" Spiderman asked faintly from his perch in the roof.

"Nah," Fuseau reassured them, "but turns out he _knows_ pranks; he's a mite pissed at Ottabio fer bein' rude ta him this mornin' too, so once he's finished babysittin' he's going ta help ya with timing."

"Timing?" Oversight echoed curiously from his perch in the corner.

Fuseau's grin was very, very evil. "Wanhope's range is way, way wider than people can sense him from," the lean Mist said cheerfully. "Everybody feels different, too."

Bel's grin became positively manic.

* * *

As the siege party enjoyed a barbeque in the evening sunlight, Bel examined the list Wanhope had compiled and cross-referenced of pranks set up, pranks triggered, victims and the achievements of the various small invasion teams, as well as the ongoing bombardment by the siege engines.

The Prince then stood up on his chair and waved at Oversight so he would amplify the Prince's voice for a royal announcement. "Men, today each of those opposing us has been glitter-bombed at least four times!" He paused to allow for cheers. "The Garden Gnome Liberation Front have occupied Cloud Division's Rec Room on three separate occasions!" More cheers. "The Phantom Pie Thrower has successfully pied Ottabio eight times!" A lot of hooting and cheering from the table Team Houdini had commandeered. "Over six-hundred paint-traps have been set up for tomorrow!" The cheers were a diffuse roar that time, but the defectors from Lightning Division were all sitting up straight and looking proud of their accomplishments. "And Housekeeping have granted us permission to camp out indefinitely!"

If they'd been indoors, that last cheer would have raised the roof. Bel raised his glass. "To success!"

* * *

Day three was the day when everybody started carrying cameras, because prank-saturation had reached a point where no one person could reasonably keep track of everything that was going on… unless that one person was Wanhope.

The tally charts the usually-depressed Mist was running in the Command Pavilion were ever so slightly disturbing to Oversight's peace of mind… although at least he wasn't messing with people's perceptions. When Iron Man had asked about that Wanhope had signed a negative, adding that doing so would make things 'boring'; an assertion Marvel Squad had whole-heartedly agreed with. Still, the listing of glitter-bombs, pie to the face, electrocutions, people getting trapped under fake anvils, paint-bombs –by colour! – snare traps and doors to the face suggested that things were possibly getting slightly out of hand.

Oversight wasn't sure what Mammon was doing that meant the Officer was missing out on the madness; he did not appear to have left his office since the morning of day one, and that had only been for five minutes.

Lussuria was in Medical, patching up the superficial injuries people came in with after getting caught in snare traps, getting their fingers fried on electric doorknobs, slamming face-first into doors that now opened _outwards_ rather than _inwards_ , tripping over after having their bootlaces tied together and so on. The Sun Officer was also cooing over how adorable Bel was being and waxing rhapsodic about how much fun most of the Varia were having.

Levi was out on a mission somewhere in Russia with his Squad, leaving Lightning Division essentially headless so the besiegers were likely to pick up the rest of the loners and strays floating around the building today, if indeed they hadn't already been dragged into the fun by their Squad-mates.

Bel of course was running the siege, Squalo was pretending none of it was happening and Ottabio was Enemy Number One; that was all the Officers accounted for.

Considering that Tyrant was also acting as though everything was business as usual, Oversight didn't think the fun was going to stop any time soon.

Then Deadpool showed up.

* * *

Deadpool had retired from the Varia nine years previously and was now a comic-book writer mostly writing about his own exploits, but he still took the time to visit the Immortal Squad he had founded, generally on weekends.

"I've also got a day job, but it's a secret!" the red-and-black-spandex-clad assassin chirped as he vaulted over the wall surrounding the Varia grounds in the early hours of Sunday morning. There weren't really enough retired Varia living in the area for there to be a rumour mill, but Deadpool had contacts in Housekeeping who had hinted at something big and completely hilarious going down that involved his Squad so he'd wandered up to see what was cooking.

"Hopefully there'll be chimichangas!" _Nobody does them quite like the lovely Cogo after all._

Easily avoiding the various traps, tripwires and surveillance points between the wall he'd entered over and the Mansion, Deadpool paused at the edge of the gardens to take in the view of siege engines, tents, smokeless campfires and sentry posts.

"This… looks like a _party_!" the founder of Marvel Squad said gleefully, loosening his twin katanas in their sheaths and checking his utility belt was fully stocked. "I wonder what the occasion is…" with that he teleported directly to where he could sense his fellow spandex aficionados in a decent-sized tent near the middle of the camp.

He landed almost on top of Patriot and startled the half-asleep Spiderman up onto the ceiling. "Greetings, minions!" _Patriot, check; Spidey, check; Hulk, check; Iron Man's outside fiddling with that giant bazooka… but where's my adorable little archer?_

"Hawkeye's got the 'flu," Patriot said before Deadpool could ask the question that had popped up in his little yellow boxes. "Ottabio infected him so we're besieging the castle in revenge. Housekeeping, Medical and Rain Division are off-limits but everybody else not on our side is fair game."

 _Ooooh! That sounds like great fun! We should join in! Everything's better with dinosaurs!_

"Oversight thinks we should hold off the Flame pranks for a while," Spidey said, dropping back to the grass, "so as to fully explore all the other options available to us and not escalate too fast. This is a siege after all."

"Of course; the psychological element is important." Deadpool agreed, rubbing his hands together evilly. "So let us attack the primary source of enemy morale: their food!"

"How do we do that without upsetting Housekeeping?" Patriot asked.

Deadpool cackled. "Gather round, my pretties; this is what we're going to do…"

* * *

"Exploding food." Squalo couldn't believe it. "Exploding food somehow not involving Mist Flames or actual explosives, which only explode for people who are Flame-active, not Rains and not in Medical."

"A really _fascinating_ application of Activation," Glace agreed blandly, admiring the splatter across the walls of the breakfast room. The place looked like the breakfast buffet had gone on a suicide bombing spree, which it effectively had. "Not sure who did it though."

"Deadpool." Squalo had woken up to a post-it stuck to his bathroom door informing him that the retired loony would be joining in 'the fun' every Sunday for the foreseeable future. There had been an attached commentary on Squalo's various traps and how they were 'made of fail', which Squalo had read thoroughly and taken into consideration while redoing his security. He'd ignored the suggestion to get a bear-trap though.

The reason Deadpool hadn't been killed by anybody yet was that for all his undeniable crazy he was a _highly competent_ lunatic and incredibly difficult to kill. Tyr had actually decapitated him once and even that hadn't worked; according to Varia lore Deadpool had been blown up, shot up, dropped off high places, impaled, dismembered and poisoned on a variety of occasions and none of it had ever given him more than a few seconds pause.

Sunny Mists were the _worst_ , even though in the records Deadpool was listed as a Misty Sun; that had been a concession to Mist Division, who hadn't wanted his special brand of crazy anywhere near them. He'd been dumped on Sun Division instead and had played a major part in expanding the Division's horizons of what was possible during his tenure there.

Harmlessly exploding food was still new though.

"Superbi!" Squalo turned in the doorway to raise an eyebrow at the Cloud Officer storming down the hallway. The way he moved suggested discomfort, possibly itchiness. Ottabio was also being very rude in using Squalo's actual surname rather than his code-name, even though Squalo was admittedly one of the few people in the Varia who openly used his real name on a regular basis. Still, he did have a code-name and manners dictated people should use it. Especially those he wasn't close to.

"There was a glitter-bomb in my underwear drawer!" Ottabio hissed as soon as he got close enough to do so without too many people overhearing.

Squalo's eyebrow twitched and his face slid into bland indifference. So what? Mist-glitter vanished in minutes.

"A _real_ glitter-bomb, _Captain_ ," the older man gritted out through clenched teeth; "Those are _banned_ and you _know_ it!"

Meaning that Squalo was obliged to discipline the culprit, or failing that point Tyrant in their direction since it was the Head of Housekeeping who had banned the things. However this had the feel of a Deadpool stunt and well…

"Deadpool's not Varia anymore," Squalo said blandly, his voice at its usual volume.

Ottabio made a sound of inarticulate fury, his face flushing in rage as he stomped off stiffly. Glitter in your underwear was clearly _very_ uncomfortable. Squalo wasn't sure why he was wearing contaminated underwear though; that was just Dumb.

Beside him Glace was looking as impassive as ever but there was a distinct sense of mirth colouring his Flames. "Glitter-bombs _are_ banned though," the GM pointed out.

"Only in public spaces where Housekeeping gets roped into cleaning them up," Squalo replied, bringing up the specific working of that Rule in his mind instead of pondering how Ottabio slept and what he wore while doing so. "An underwear drawer is an enclosed space, so the explosion was fully contained and no glitter will have left it until there was third-party interference." Thus any dropped glitter would be wholly blamed on Ottabio, since the only way for glitter to get out of the drawer was for him to have removed it.

There was a snicker from the apparently-empty ceiling above them; both Rains ignored it. It wasn't their business.

* * *

A week after the destruction and replacement of Squalo's office window the front lawn had been invaded by pink metal flamingos that turned to follow people's movements when they were outside, every single member of Cloud division affiliated with Ottabio had woken up tied up and locked in a cupboard at _least_ once, there was an _actual_ snipe wandering around Headquarters –Squalo had found out recently that snipes were magical birds capable of turning invisible that wizards occasionally domesticated so that was probably Bel's doing– and the Phantom Pie Thrower had branched out from custard pies to cherry, apple and key lime pies, all of which were considerably stickier, if no less delicious.

No two clocks in the mansion now told the same time, including _all_ of Levi's alarm clocks which had been absconded with and secreted in hard-to-reach places across half the Mansion. The constant alarms had been irritating for those people exposed to them, most of whom were either Lightnings or Clouds. There were obviously fewer working ones as time passed, as batteries died or they were found and broken.

Six of Ottabio's Clouds had already broken and showed up in Squalo's office asking for milk-run missions to get them away from the Mansion; only four such missions had been available but the two mission-less Clouds had still packed bags and left the premises, possibly to camp out in a hotel until the insanity passed.

Of course, there being fewer targets did not mean the madness had reduced; if anything it had intensified. Squalo was sure that a few of his Rains were joining in, in between spectating and enjoying their immunity of course.

Squalo was just pretending it wasn't happening; they had to stop soon, didn't they?

* * *

Squalo soon learned that no, they didn't have to stop soon. Instead he learned that things had turned _educational_ , so any chance of it stopping soon was well and truly doomed.

Of course, he wasn't told that in a normal fashion. Even though the Rain Division had immunity to this 'siege' it didn't mean that there weren't other 'campaigns' still at work, like the one the Varia Ladies had going to make Squalo blush. Because that was the only thing that explained why he had been tackled by Kuchisake before he had even managed to leave the training room he'd been occupying for the past two hours.

Kuchisake, being no fool, used her momentum to swing around so Squalo merely stumbled instead of completely losing his balance. He wasn't even able to attack reflexively with his attached sword as she swung past before he even draw it. That meant the Mist was now able to cling to his back while he re-established his footing and balance to adjust for her weight.

Squalo considered his possible actions and Kuchisake's probable reactions to all of them and figured that no, there was no way to not get embarrassed in some fashion. There was only minimizing what would happen and who would see, so Squalo kicked the open door closed as Kuchisake snuggled into his back.

"Oh, if you wanted privacy you just had to ask." She purred. "But as it happens I'm only delivering a message, not being one. See, a lot of the Squad Leaders and the trainers in Housekeeping saw this as a good opportunity to put in some teaching time. Putting subjects known in theory into practice. So there'll be all sorts of entertainment, both publicly and personally."

She pointedly wasn't asking for permission. Just passing the information along in very blatant innuendos while she breathed against his neck. The left side, which was more sensitive than his right and she had to have known that. He was ignoring that though.

"So long as they keep track of who's teaching and for how long so that payrolls won't be a mess to figure out," Squalo decided, because he didn't want to have hunt down that information personally or have people complaining they weren't paid for their teaching efforts. And more hands-on, non-lethal practice would be good for the apprentices and the recently named since there were some people who didn't mind teaching but hated doing more formalized instruction in a classroom. That was what milkrun missions were for, in theory, but that didn't always work out as well as it should.

"I don't see how that would be a problem. Unlike the whole 'fog of war' simulation that's going to happen soon because while targeting Ottabio is fun, hosting a siege isn't as fun without more defenders. There's no burning pitch, as that would violate Marvel's non-lethal policy but ice-baths and so on isn't."

"Where are they getting the ice?" Squalo asked, because he could ignore the siege but the Varia couldn't produce that much ice could they? Most people at least had mini-fridges in their rooms and Housekeeping had some freezers too, but those were for food not for ice trays. For the most part Italy's water quality wasn't that great either so people usually just drunk bottled water instead.

"Oh, Mjölnir had a wonderful idea about solidifying water with Lightning Flames which does work and lets them turn it into a slush, although the kinetic energy is reduced to heat as it has to go somewhere so it's a slow process unless she wants to risk a shock or a burn of some sort; energy transference and all that, you know. Schöne thinks they could get it truly solid with practice and a more refined technique, since she doesn't want to get shocked either. She said and I agree that Rains might be able to do the same because liquids are liquids because their molecules move past each other so using 'Tranquillity' on liquids means they could stop that molecular movement and thus freeze them. The issue would be precision so that you don't end up repeating history's recorded attempts and crippling yourself."

Squalo knew Kuchisake was referring to the attempts of various past Rains at re-creating the technique specific to Primo's Rain Guardian. Which had a documented tendency of crippling the Rains who attempted it in interesting but generally survivable ways.

"Glace will be interested in that if it works, especially if it works like that for Rain Flames," Squalo admitted. His GM's mirror-like constructs worked sort of like that anyway, but they weren't actually ice so much as a paper-thin selectively permeable membranes of Flames.

There were records of a few Rains in the Vongola's early history being able to use ice techniques but the knowledge of how hadn't made it to present day; Quarto's first Rain Guardian was the last person to know the technique that Primo's Rain had created and he'd taken the secret to his early grave. But that didn't mean they couldn't recreate those techniques with time and dedication; it wouldn't be anything like the Zero-point Breakthrough that Boss was encased in, but it would still be ice. Ice which could be used more offensively than what Rains could usually achieve with traditional training, which focused on using their Flames directly on people, generally to subdue and incapacitate them.

Squalo probably would continue not to use Flames on missions like that, but recreating the freezing technique might be possible. But if it was a matter of distributing heat to prevent a person freezing or boiling their hand, how would the ice occur? Much less in a manner that looked no different to normal Rain Flames? Rain Flames acted a lot like the water they appeared to be, so maybe some version of supercooling? Which was possible but Squalo wasn't sure how to do that. Or maybe it had to be compressed so that it didn't look like ice until the pressure was relived but pressure and heat were related variables... that would make it a much more complicated technique, especially if he used it with his sword like Primo's Rain Guardian had done. There would have to be at least three layers of Flames all doing different things to create the effect. That'd be tricky but at least he had an idea of how to do that, unlike supercooling...

"You seem like you've got other ideas, so I'll leave you to practice with them. Be safe, Captain!"

Squalo did notice her stop clinging to his back and leave but while he heard the door close, most of his mind was on the challenge of how the technique worked and how to recreate it...

* * *

"The Captain is well and truly distracted!" Kuchisake reported cheerfully at the meeting between various planners and coordinators of the siege force. "He'll probably be like that for the next week when not doing Officer or Boss stuff, as requested."

"Oh? How'd you do that?" Sarja asked.

"Gave him a hint to help him recreate Asari Ugetsu's lost Flame technique. The one that Primo's Rain was infamous for using with his swords." She deadpanned the last.

There were a number of reactions to that bit of information. Some laughed outright, a few chuckled and there were scattered giggles. Most of the Squad Leaders here had joined Squalo's world tour at some point, so they knew Squalo's sword obsession first hand.

"Are you certain that it'll work?" A young Sun recently promoted to Squad Leader that past June asked; Kuchisake thought his name was Curare, after the poison because that appealed to Lussuria's sense of humour, since Kuchisake was sure he had been Sweetcake while he was an apprentice.

"Of course! Even if Squalo doesn't manage it, he'll practice and test possibilities all week at least. The shark's better about it than some but you don't have to obtain his mafia school records to see the amount of focus he puts into his sword skills. A bit obsessive he is." She explained airily, leaving off the small Mist-trick she had pulled on the Rain Officer to turn his focus where she wanted it to go. Squalo was _good_ at detecting Mist-tricks but he still sometimes fell for simple misdirection, which was one of the hardest things to deal with especially since she had been playing off of his preconceived notions and the ideas she had quite literally put in his head. "Plus I've tested a few theories about that particular technique, but as that was done with Mist Flames, I'm not certain that it would work in practice with Rain Flames due to density differences."

"How does that work then?"

That was not a question she was willing to answer, so she laughed instead. Creepy laugh number three, with an intro from insane laugh number four and ending dark chuckle number six. It had the effect she wanted. They stopped asking questions.

"The better question is how long Kuchisake's been sittin' on tha' info." Fuseau remarked. "Few years now?"

"Since a few months after I first did a mission with Gwasgedd," Kuchisake admitted, which had indeed been years ago. "Her technique meant that different ways of using Rain Flames were possible and control of that just means using physics for the rest. So I played with it a bit."

"I remember that time. Her pressure technique was new and didn't rely on Rain's stated property of 'Tranquillity' so there was a trend of trying to get her to demonstrate it so they could imitate it for a few years before Squalo challenged Tyr. Of course anyone who managed to annoy a Rain to that point was certainly Dumb, if not Stupid but it _was_ a trend." Oversight added.

"Alright, so since the Captain's busy and distracted we can do most of the planned scenarios for training purposes. But there's no way we won't have fun with them, right?" Sarja asked the assembled Squad Leaders; this was a much more expanded meeting than just Bel's 'War Council' as the Storm Officer had named the original instigators and a few of his people, but if they were going to be educational about their various schemes and such all the Squad Leaders involved in the siege needed to know the rules.

"For those using this as a way to train minions, Squalo wants accurate records so that the payrolls are accurate. Can you keep track of that too, Wanhope or will it interfere with your coordinating and monitoring here?" Kuchisake asked.

Wanhope signed back that he was capable of monitoring all of that as well. Slightly scary for others to learn, but Kuchisake already knew more about Wanhope's skills and personality from her time as the Mist Division's General Manager than most would ever learn and had learned to make peace with the fact that Wanhope was possibly the scariest Mist the Division had. Mammon had power in spades but Wanhope ranked just under Mammon in power and his technique took control of others without seeming to. It was a scary thing to think your thoughts and actions might not be your own. Meh, you either adjusted or you didn't.

"Ushishishi. Sign up to be defenders or attackers. I shall lead the siege; the defenders get the rest of today and tonight to prepare. Choose your sides wisely."

* * *

Bel knew that they didn't have enough numbers for a proper siege and splitting those numbers so they had a defending force made that more obvious. Which was why they had concentrated their siege antics to one specific part of the castle most called 'the Varia's mansion'. If it happened to focus on the area where the Cloud Office and a few other places that belonged to Ottabio's dwindling in-Varia power base, well it wasn't really their problem; they just didn't want to move the siege equipment. Plus a smaller area meant their forces weren't as stretched out, so some semblance of realism was maintained.

Which was why Bel had been mostly testing the defenders' positions and fortifications, including a barricade made with what Bel thought were several people's mattresses. Even the garden gnomes and flamingos had found a temporary home as parts of various non-lethal traps incorporated in the defences and the idea of the flamingo riding gnome swinging from a wire was funny, especially since even the flamingo was flying over his head height. Laughable defences as they were, they were solid and would make any actual attack a bit more annoying since they were avoiding using Flames so far other than for creating 'supplies' for things like Mist-glitter or the ice-slush the defenders would have. This entire endeavour was devoted to fun and a bit of teaching, and the most fun for him would happen later. In the night raid. He wanted to wear out the defenders first.

There had been a successful attempt by the defenders to deprive the attackers of lunch, but Bel judged that to be ill-timed. Housekeeping staff was protected but the food wasn't, so Bel had made sure the evening meal was not tampered with and protected by at least a squad of people, not taking more from the attackers and his reserve than he had to. A few of them had already been drenched in slush today, Spiderman in particular had had more solid ice chunks tossed at him but Bel had kept a few people in reserve for guarding the camp and their supplies. Tiring his spare troops out during the daylight would be unwise.

Bel did admire the defender's plan. It was a good and simple plan; too simple for a Prince to fall for though. The feint towards the food didn't work due to the Prince's own genius and so the defender's sabotage squad had been captured and taken prisoner. They were being 'interrogated' by the Okama's glittery friend, Alizarin, which was less interrogation and more of an unwanted but sometimes needed make-over. Somehow Stralung had found permanent markers and was therefore busy designing and inking various designs on request as some sort of 'medical care' after the 'interrogation'. As the Sun Squad leader had designed his own yakuza-style tattoos, the prisoners were in good hands and were being guarded by Cheshire, a Mist who had his own selection of unusual tattoos. Animated ones, in fact.

Bel really couldn't help but anticipate the night raid. Conventional strategy meant that they should attack in the early morning hours, but whoever was leading the defenders would expect that. So Bel was going to hit them earlier and leave a few surprises... and maybe a dungbomb for Ottabio's office. Still eleven wasn't quite midnight, but it would be all the more unexpected for it.

* * *

Hawkeye woke up confused and bleary-eyed. He could swear he had heard someone yell 'cold!' and 'unfair!' in the distance and below his room, but he had a visitor. So Hawkeye coughed and waved hello to Hulk.

"I believe that the defenders have brought out the hose." Hulk said instead of asking how Hawkeye was.

Hawkeye was technically over the worst of his flu now that he had been down for a week and a day, but that still didn't meant he was well and healthy enough to be playing in the chaos, much less go out on missions.

Hawkeye snorted at that image before breaking into a cough. Hawkeye had been getting updates 'because the best medicine was laughter' so the Cloud had a good idea of who was on which team, and his Squad was good at getting documentation. Spiderman more so than the others, because climbing walls allowed for interesting camera angles the others couldn't get.

"How many scenarios they got planned?"

"Enough that Iron Man expects that the chaos will continue on should Captain assign us a mission in an attempt to restore order, as events will get more and more factional and intense as soon as Flames are allowed for full use this weekend. Kuchisake has him distracted by trying to recreate a lost sword technique but it won't last for more than ten days at maximum, but you should be well enough by then to get involved in something easy and things will be set up prior to then so the chaos can continue. Bel has an over-reaching plan of some sort, but there's no hint of what it actually is, other than possibly getting rid of Ottabio or inspiring someone else to do it by showing him in a very bad light."

"That's good to know." Hawkeye yawned. "I'm gonna get more sleep."

* * *

The week went on with various scenarios, ranging from hostile raids to juvenile meanness. Someone three days into the second week had managed to hit the clean laundry waiting to be picked up with itching powder and other cheap tricks, so most of those affected by that had switched to their civilian clothing. Some however ended up in traditional costumes of a different nationality and that was interesting. Disturbing, but interesting. Squalo did not want to know how some people obtained the clothing they were wearing; he didn't even want to _remember_ those situations he had witnessed for himself.

Both the raids and the meanness were considered 'learning experiences', as was the fallout from the underwear raids. Some group had managed to break into Tsue's and a few others' rooms and hang everything out since they were camping out, so the Varia Ladies –all of them, including those that had retired to Housekeeping or were still apprentices– had teamed up and were terrifyingly thorough in their revenge. The Storm Division was about even with the Mist Division in the number of Ladies it had, but while no one had gone into Howitzer's room as she was married to Dark Horse's Lightning and thus doing so would anger the Immortal Squad, the other non-Mist Ladies and Gwasgedd –the only Varia Lady in the Rain Division who should have been exempt on principle and wasn't even in the building– hadn't been so lucky. Revenge was however prompt, terrifying and almost indiscriminate as Sumu and Magharibi had gotten pretty much everyone not exempt from the chaos with one of the milder hallucinogens the Varia had; very much a learning experience, as there were Flame-traces that magnified and enhanced certain aspects. Squalo would have felt pity for the guilty parties but that _had_ been a very Dumb thing to do, if not outright Stupid. He didn't have a clear report of what happened to the underwear thieves but a full body shudder from the witnesses was very telling in its own way.

Some scenarios were intentionally purposeful, like a 'rescue' by taking out the hostage-takers. Those were done with a more serious attitude as it had mostly been apprentices doing the 'rescuing' but any hope of seriousness was obliterated when Deadpool volunteered to 'princess' and had chased Bel around until the Storm Officer agreed to rescue him. From what Squalo heard it had been a mess and a half on its own and not just because Deadpool was being himself in a dress, one that looked remarkably like a wedding dress. Deadpool had then complained that Bel lacked any hint of romantic spirit. The little yellow boxes were very informative and hilarious, as was the chase afterwards since 'the prince that rescued a princess had to provide a happily ever after!' Bel had eventually used his Decoy to throw the retired loony off of his trail, as Bel's 'Decoy' who was properly referred to as Alizeti generally did what Bel said for some reason. Alizeti let himself be fussed over –somehow everyone who saw the Sun did or wanted to do that– and explained that Bel was too young to make a happily ever after, as Bel wasn't legally able to marry anyone yet.

Squalo was ignoring all that he could of the entire mess. That he had been well and truly distracted the past few days did help, but he had managed to learn a few new tricks with Rain Flames while trying to re-create Asari Ugetsu's technique. He had eventually figured out the trick to supercooling Rain Flames and also figured out how to do the reverse, which was actually a bit more dangerous. His uniform meant there was a layer of protection between him and the ice, but steam burns were the worst and the reason it had taken him all week to get the specifics down, even if it wasn't up to his preferred level of proficiency yet.

Hawkeye had appeared on day five of the second week of the 'Marvellous Mess' and Squalo took that as a sign that the Cloud was well enough to be sent out on a mission as soon as they got one that was easy enough for someone recovering from the flu to do. Getting Marvel Squad away from the rest of the Varia meant they would calm down sometime soon, right?

* * *

Sending Marvel Squad off on a milkrun at the beginning of week three did not make the situation any better. In fact it seemed to Squalo that removing Marvel Squad had actually prompted everybody else to _escalate_ , as almost as soon as the spandex-clad gang of crazies left the grounds the garden gnomes –which had until this point been mostly just lying around and looking creepy as no one knew where they'd come from or who they belonged to– all came to life as Nac Mac Feegles and raided Cloud Division's liquor cupboard. Squalo wasn't sure whose idea _that_ had been, but Pratchett was a classic so he deliberately overlooked the wanton destruction, Glaswegian swearing and entertainingly blatant theft of large objects by six-inch blue-tattooed pictsies. It wasn't like they were stealing _his_ alcohol.

Then Mammon made an appearance in the besiegers' camp the following morning, sending the defenders into a fully justified panic that meant they were taken completely by surprise by the complete lack of debilitating physical illusions. Instead there was a spate of Tranquillity Traps that immobilised the defenders enough for half of the besiegers to storm past them into the protected territory. Then, when the defenders had recovered, the besiegers drove them _out_ of the castle… right into a waiting cavalry charge, complete with real horses with some of the other besiegers mounted on them.

It was utterly chaotic and extremely exciting, all of which distracted most of the defenders from really remembering that there had been a mass invasion earlier in the day. The consequences of that invasion only became apparent in the evening: balloons loaded with glow-in-the-dark skin dye, disturbing sounds in the air vents, actual live sheep and chairs that collapsed when people sat on them all conspired to give the defenders very little sleep.

The next day started with a scream; Squalo wasn't present for it but he did hear it and got the story out of Glace a little later: a Lightning stumbling down for an early breakfast, doubtless hoping to avoid the chaos, had found the breakfast room redecorated as an old-fashioned office and Lord Vetinari sat at the desk doing paperwork. Finding a highly threatening fictional character in the breakfast room had prompted the screaming, which Squalo could agree was slightly understandable; Vetinari was not somebody any sane Varia wanted to face before breakfast.

It turned out that, rather than being an illusion, Vetinari was Fuseau in disguise, which honestly made the whole thing five times worse because while thus disguised Fuseau had completely abandoned his usual accent and that discrepancy was jarring. That he remained firmly in character for the rest of the day made it all ten times more unnerving. Squalo was glad to be able to hide in his office. Others were not so lucky and had to deal with a variety of other Pratchett-inspired horrors, although no Mist had quite dared to bring into being the infamous travelling Luggage.

In comparison the morning after just had several swamps in the upstairs corridors, perfectly situated so that Ottabio had to walk the long way around through part of the Lightning residential area in order to get from his rooms to his office, the Cloud Lounge or downstairs to the breakfast area. Inconvenient but not really inspired; Squalo suspected the culprit to be a particularly stunted Lightning making their first tentative steps into the wonderful world of humour. Considering that the besiegers were currently experimenting with cursed missiles that sent those hit into fits of laughter, it didn't really register on the prank scale.

* * *

That afternoon the paint bombs escalated into treacle bombs Altered to only stick to human tissue, resulting in all of the defenders being utterly soaked and needing to spend hours in the bathroom to get the stickiness out of their hair. The Ladies in the defence team –along with those men who favoured long hair– all swore horrendous vengeance on Bel, whose idea that had been. Squalo was enjoying the lull of the besiegers waiting for the defenders to get their act together again when there was another piercing shriek, this one furious and terrified with a distinctive Hard-to-ignore edge that said that one of the Lightning Ladies was in actual genuine distress.

Squalo was out of his office and up the stairs in seconds, along with two dozen other Varia and eight members of Housekeeping. The Varia with him were mainly from Medical, plus a couple of Lightnings who had clearly dashed right out of their own showers in response to the scream.

The stampede came to an abrupt stop outside Schöne's rooms, where the redheaded Brazilian was huddled behind Tyrant, wrapped in a towel with her hair soaking wet and still sticky with sugar. Tyrant has one foot on Ottabio's neck and was pressing down hard enough that the half-dressed Cloud Officer was already most of the way to unconsciousness. That Tyrant was taking his time suggested the retired Sky was exceedingly displeased by whatever he'd just interfered with.

Ottabio finally passed out; Tyrant lingered for a while longer before reluctantly taking his foot off the Cloud's throat.

"What happened?" Squalo asked. Politely and calmly, because Tyrant had a noted soft spot for Schöne and the young Lightning was very definitely distressed.

"Ottabio invaded Schöne's rooms and attempted to assault her," Tyrant said with deceptive evenness.

Squalo's first thought was that such a transgression was a really _good_ reason to kill Ottabio without needing to wait for Boss to be defrosted. His second thought was that if _he_ thought that, what were the odds of it being a set-up of some kind? Far too high.

"Remove the Cloud Officer to Medical," Squalo ordered harshly, "and check him for chemical influences." Since Tyrant hadn't just killed the slimeball outright Squalo unfortunately had to make an effort to be _fair_.

After a very telling pause two junior members of Medical stepped forward and slung the Cloud Officer between them, 'accidentally' knocking his head against the floor, a side-table and the banister rail before vanishing out of sight down the stairs. Squalo then turned his attention to Schöne, who was definitely struggling with a flashback of some kind.

"Weasel-girl," the Rain Officer said clearly in Japanese, hoping the language and the reference to both the manga Schöne liked so much and her apprentice name would draw her out of it. Using Rain Flames on people experiencing flashbacks was generally considered poor form because it prolonged the internal experience for the victim while making them feel trapped and unable to retaliate.

Schöne blinked hard and focused. "Sorry Captain," she managed in the same language.

"You have nothing to apologise for," Squalo said firmly. "Go spend the rest of the day with Mab." In Housekeeping, went unspoken, where Tyrant can loom over you and make you feel safe until you move past this moment and bounce back. It was slightly disconcerting how very quickly a healthy Lightning could move past traumatic experiences, but that recovery period was offset by the fact that healthy Lightnings were more susceptible to flashbacks than every other Flame-type except Mists. It was a 'good news, bad news' thing and Squalo didn't begrudge Schöne her one weakness when the rest of her was so very capable and hard-working. The mansion was supposed to be a place where the Varia were free to be themselves, so Ottabio's flagrant violation of the unwritten rules was going to make everybody very, very angry. There'd probably be an intense rash of rather more vicious pranks as everybody blew off steam.

* * *

"So?" Bel demanded. The set-up for his intended vengeance on Ottabio had been rather convoluted, but he'd taken great pains to ensure that nobody except the Rat would be seriously affected and that Tyrant would be close enough to intervene if things got out of hand.

Wanhope stared at the prince for a long moment, then signed that nobody had died. The tone of his movements suggested that it had, however, been a very near thing.

Bel got the feeling that if Tyrant ever found out the Prince had been the person behind _this_ prank then he would be made to _suffer_. "Ushishi… what went wrong?" Finding out what went wrong was always the first step.

Wanhope signed, very precisely, that Schöne turned out to be Ottabio's type… and that the Cloud Officer was not the sort to take 'no' as an answer once his inhibitions had been reduced a little.

Bel winced. Oooh, not good. Tyrant would be _very_ unhappy about that; that Ottabio was still alive was rather surprising since that was an execution-worthy offense there. The Prince had thought Ottabio's tastes ran more to men; after all he'd had several different flings with various older Lightnings before now…

With the benefit of hindsight, Bel could _now_ see that Ottabio's tastes actually ran to people who were unlikely to say 'no', which said bad things about how he allowed his controlling Cloudiness to affect his character. Well, at least this had happened in the mansion and not on a mission…

… Bel doubted anybody else would see it his way though; too outraged for the pretty weasel and not enough for the men who clearly had been unable to say 'no' and had not been able to draw attention to that fact afterwards. Maybe he should insinuate something about Ottabio's tastes to the Okama, later, after it was possible for him to have heard about it? Something about how it probably wouldn't be wise to have them assigned to Sarja's personal Squad –nicknamed Problem Squad– because Sarja was an unfamiliar male of higher rank who wore glasses; or at least his Storm Squad Leader did when he was reading.

Plebeian peasants would need that pointed out to them as well. However, while that had to happen, Bel would rather not get killed for planning and engineering the situation that had resulted in this incident.

"This never happened," he told Wanhope firmly. The Mist inclined his head, signing that he was just as much to blame as Bel was and suggesting something be done to cheer up the Varia member who had been caught in the crossfire of their prank. Then he signed something that took a moment's interpretation.

"Singing?" Bel repeated. "Cursed sing-alongs? Musicals, Opera, Bollywood or Disney? Hmm… Disney: it will be funnier. Now, who has the best singing voice?"

The best way to get past a near-error was to bury it under a pile of successes. No-one would think to look there after all; the Prince was a recognised genius.

* * *

Lussuria had been apprehensive at the beginning of the siege, but that had tapered off by lunch of the first day: Bel and the majority of the Varia were clearly having a good time in ways which were mostly harmless and thus boring from a medical standpoint; no gruesome and unusual injuries to fix. Marvel Squad's involvement had seen that nothing went past the boundaries of good taste and non-lethal. Lussuria had therefore been happy to let them play, even as it escalated wildly. Squalo-darling, being more concerned about restoring order among the Divisions before practically everyone was run off their feet with missions, had sent Marvel Squad on a milkrun as soon as Hawkeye was mobile and awake for most of the day, seeing that Marvel Squad had been the catalyst for the entire affair.

However their job as a catalyst was long since over by the end of the first day, and they'd been acting as a stabilizer for the entire affair since; even with the regular Sunday inclusion of Deadpool visits and the promise of further visits to come. Sending them off would only lead to escalation, which was why the imposed rules about good taste and non-lethal had been forgotten within forty-eight hours of Marvel Squad leaving, as proven by someone potentially setting Ottabio up to be executed by Tyrant for being 'caught in the act'.

Lussuria was less happy that according to the blood work Ottabio actually had been drugged, and was actually alive instead of dead; alive meant Ottabio could press for an investigation and it would be next to impossible to prove that there had been a plot instead of just a spur of the moment decision to take advantage of what had previously been set up in the halls and Ottabio being there. Lussuria's eyes behind his sunglasses wandered to the pharmacy shelf as he and tried to make murdering another Officer –one that was technically in his care– less appealing. The pharmacy had so _many_ options available...

Ottabio should be grateful that the lovely Kuchisake –she was a vision even with those stitches on her face– wearing that pretty blue yukata that always made Squalo twitch, had distracted him from the temptation, but that would require Ottabio to be awake to notice; he had taken a few bumps on the way to Medical. Best to keep him properly sedated until the various chemicals in his system metabolized; using Rain-Flames to keep him under would just make his entire system sluggish, which would reduce the rate at which the chemicals in his system metabolised.

"So what's Squalo's verdict on this mess?"

"Opportunistic or accidental. The bits of swamp blocking the halls were set up today, but early enough that not many people outside of Cloud and Lightning Division knew about them and while the treacle was prepared this morning too, the order for it has been in with the kitchen since Sunday. As such, pretty much all the besiegers would be under suspicion. The chemical knowledge required cuts down the suspect pool some, but that's not a solid lead either. I think it's too neat for it to not be purposeful and Squalo agrees, but we're not short on people with motive and reason to be less direct. It's why we're not considering any of the Clouds or those that belong to Medical."

"That would put Bel as a prime suspect then, and we both know he does have both the motivation and know-how."

"And that's exactly why we're not really considering him. He's too smart to blatantly incriminate himself like that and too busy enjoying the siege to attempt to kill Ottabio when he can make Ottabio suffer. We know Bel doesn't make mistakes like this unless he's missed something and that doesn't happen often, especially regarding someone he plans to kill or otherwise torment."

"Opportunistic or accidental is what's left and no-one is going to leave evidence one way or another if they were the opportunist in question. What has Wanhope said?"

"Wanhope noticed what led up to the scream, registering genuine distress, terror and so on but not what had happened to Ottabio prior to that, as the Cloud Officer registered as physically fine, if more aggressive and frustrated. Both of which are very understandable considering Ottabio's position as a favourite target."

"So no way of narrowing down the field until Ottabio wakes and can tell us more, such as how and when he was drugged, if he even knows."

"Exactly." Kuchisake agreed, waving him a little closer to where she had taken a seat. Lussuria felt her weave a construct of Mist and realised that what she intended to say next was more confidential than the potential murder conspiracy of an Officer. "Bel felt the need to mention that, should there be a _problem_ discovered among the Lightings concerning Ottabio, assigning Lightnings to Problem Squad was unlikely to help considering that Sarja would be a male of higher rank who wears glasses on occasion."

"Sarja's broader and has darker hair, but if Bel is thinking about their mental health..." Lussuria followed that thought to its natural conclusion before his eyes cut to Ottabio's figure on a bed. The urge to murder the Cloud Officer was quite compelling now. That was a _problem_ too, if different from what the Lightnings might potentially have.

"We know that pretty much all the Flame-active Lightnings in the mafia are fucked in the head to some extent. It's also pretty well known –if you know how to look– that most Lightnings don't even make it to twenty and are sexually active well before that age. Which means that sexual predation of both male and female Lightnings is likely far more common than we thought, possibly starting even earlier than we assumed, although they're most likely to prey on each-other due to relative social isolation and a lack of more aware individuals monitoring their behaviour since their parents are likely dead before they're five."

"Which means that they'd think that such behaviour was normal and wouldn't report it as abnormal even if they're uncomfortable with things, due to prior conditioning. What a mess." Lussuria sighed, thinking about how submissive some Lightnings could be and how _that_ would appeal to an overly-controlling Cloud. "Now, what are you planning Kuchisake-darling?" And why are you bringing this up to Medical, he added mentally.

"Well, I've had more free time than I know what to do with since Raas took up General Manager duties... so I had a thought that Medical could help with?"

"Do go on darling," Lussuria encouraged, wondering what the Mist Squad Leader had come up with and how doable it was.

* * *

Bel heard later from Oversight that the incident with Ottabio had been ruled accidental; a batch of treacle had turned up contaminated and according to the tests Medical had done Ottabio had subconsciously multiplied the contaminant and its effects due to the past few weeks of frustration; the six others affected were just a bit snippier than usual about being confined to Medical for observation until the effects wore off. "Sloppy peasant," Bel commented, leaving off other insults he could have added. His War Council all understood his point and none of them were fond of the Cloud Officer, even if Bel didn't know the exact reasons why; Ottabio had plenty of enemies for a variety of reasons and a slowly diminishing cadre of 'allies' within his own Division. Eventually he'd be pushed into making a mistake that the Varia could kill him for without consequence, or someone would kill him on a mission, if they were ever that lucky.

Oversight nodded, scowling, before launching into a report about other things he had observed.

They coordinated the activities for the evening, at least those planned prior to Ottabio accidentally poisoning himself with contaminated treacle along with the Cursed sing-a-longs. Bel had continued with most of those plans but he had left plenty of room for his besiegers to do other things; trying to maintain more discipline than the haphazard self control of his underlings just wasn't worth the resentment that would be earned for such restrictions. Best to let the rest of the besiegers and even the defenders run a bit wild for most of a day or two before returning to the pre-established format. Trying to impose order would just turn him into a target; the Varia were assassins, not soldiers. Plus too much work.

He told Sekti to remind the Storm Division to be careful, or at least to see Medical should they get injured; well that was the implied message. The Prince had plans that needed people to be in full health to achieve; it was hard to besiege a castle without besiegers.

Schöne had not resumed command of the defenders after breakfast the next morning, but Bel had planned for that as a just-in-case; that she hadn't meant that various plans were pushed back. Otherwise who would they target?

It was into this mess that Pýř and his new squad, dubbed 'Chaos Squad' by Kuchisake, had returned to the Varia from their latest job.

* * *

Maínomai's involvement marked a turning point in the 'Marvellous Mess' even if not everyone knew that for a few hours; they did soon after that, but not before. Bel had slightly more warning, in that as Pýř and his squad arrived a scant hour before noon, they separated: Pýř to make his reports, the Mists to find out what was going on.

This was how the Prince ended up with one of the few people in the Varia that could match his IQ in his tent. That level of intelligence was clearly proof of good breeding, even if Bel was unsure what sort of Rank Maínomai's bloodline would hold in the magical world.

According to lore, all magical beings were descended from the Titans and the Gods; most magicals were just not of direct descent and lacked proof of such heritage. That Family Magic could be shaped and formed in younger families over time made things more complicated with false claimants and that wasn't even accounting for the issues of what happened when a squib inherited the Family Magic and lived long enough to pass said Family Magic onto their children; there were many complications for proving a direct connection unless you were a Zabini by birth or had Zabini as part of your heritage, which was why it was such a big deal among the magical nobility and Royalty alike to be related to that unbroken lineage that had ruled before Rome was even thought of, much less had created the Empire.

Maínomai while a squib –and probably born from a line of them– was still Heir to his Family Magic, whatever that was. As a Mist, it really didn't matter whether he could use a wand; he didn't need one. With the right amount of Will and the knowledge of his Family Magic he would be able to wield it without difficulty. More to the point, his Heirship was undeniable with the heirloom detailed in the Varia Records and an actual Curse, although both were now destroyed with a documented quantity of improvement despite lingering damage. It still didn't solve the issue of Rank though; was Maínomai of low Rank and acting to curry favour, or was he so secure in his actual power that he was free to be as friendly and as flighty as he wished?

It was important for Bel to know since it was necessary to treat those of Rank appropriately and between being Varia and the Heir of his Family Magic, Maínomai actually had some measure of Bel's respect by virtue of his pedigree and skill. Not that the Prince didn't respect the skill of all of the Varia, but most didn't have the breeding to be part of nobility, much less be Royalty. Having Family Magic and being Heir to it at least meant that the flighty Mist was part of the nobility, which meant that respecting his Rank was important.

"Oh, I am sorry if I'm interrupting the planning of your campaign, Prince Bel." The Mist said as he looked into the War Council's tent; it was empty except for Wanhope doing tallies and Bel thinking, as he certainly wasn't going to try and get his 'army' into a more proper order until after lunch when they'd be more pliable. He had information that said Schöne would be back in command and have her forces mostly prepared by then, so...

"Ushishishi, come in." Bel offered, studying the Mist that entered the tent with an easy grace and a grim smile on his face. Bel could assume that Maínomai had heard about what had happened to his opposition in this operation, due to Ottabio. That information would be all over the Varia by now.

Maínomai further scanned the inside of the tent, signing greetings and asking questions of the mute Mist that Bel followed easily. Less amusing was that Bel couldn't read Maínomai as well as he could others; while only Wanhope would broadcast his emotional state without care, most Mists were by nature very good at compartmentalization and almost compulsively detail-oriented, which made it clear when they were plotting something compared to just thinking. Bel couldn't even begin to tell what the flightier Mist was thinking about as he had assumed the neutral and guarded face complete with stiffer body language common to Varia restraining the impulse to kill someone. Add onto that the detail that Maínomai's body language didn't always make sense due to multiple and conflicting trains of thought and, well... Bel barely paid mind to the mostly-silent conversation with Wanhope concerning Schöne and how the Lady Lightning was, how the Little Hammer was shoring up the defences in her absence...

Bel let them converse; clearly the formerly Cursed Mist wasn't the type to curry favour, so that meant his Rank had to be high enough for him to not crave wider acknowledgement like a more common and lowly Lord, much less Heir would do. Due to being a squib Maínomai would have minimal influence, despite being Heir and a Mist fully capable of fooling enough people into thinking otherwise should he want to involve himself in politics. As their Heir was a squib, Maínomai's house would have lost prestige due to losing its Family Magic, which had to be at least a few generations ago for all the tells in language and behaviour to have faded down the generations. So a diminished House of notable rank that was nonetheless secure enough to not be ambitious; at least its actual Heir was, since Bel had no idea what Maínomai's more distant relatives would be like.

Wanhope was detailing various exploits from the past few weeks, although Varia Sign Language was less than ideal for subtleties. The other Mist blinked slowly, as if an idea had appeared and he wanted to keep it somewhat secret for the moment, since it wasn't followed by a smug smile or gloating body language. Just a small smile indicating there was most definitely a Plot in progress.

One that considering Maínomai's tendency towards overkill and multiple tangling contingencies in just mere petty revenge did not bode well. Especially as Bel had the feeling that things wouldn't be so decidedly one-sided in the favour of the besiegers any longer.

* * *

Maínomai found Schöne looking like she was trying to out-think a genius and having issues with it; Bel was a wily sort of impromptu plotter, whose schemes often looked like the result of artless serendipity. She seemed very frustrated and was thus very determined to do something.

"You know, Bel's being pretty mean, capitalizing on your inexperience in command. That's three advantages he has there, plus there're others."

"He has more skilled people and his besiegers have better morale." Schöne said sharply back. "Plus he is a genius." The latter comment was made rather bitterly.

"Those are the obvious ones." Maínomai agreed. "You wanna know the less obvious ones?"

Schöne clearly weighed the worth of his advice before he even gave it, then she nodded.

"The first issue is the lack of identifying resources, both for our side and on his; people, skills, supplies. From what I heard, Bel didn't hire Mammon until recently which was a resource missed. Can you think of others like that?" He asked.

"Housekeeping and Medical are neutral, while most of the Rains are choosing to involve themselves on an individual basis on their own whims; thus the importance of morale."

 _Because better morale would bring more numbers to our side, as it wasn't like the Varia were disciplined soldiers, loyal to the point of death. Which would in turn mean higher morale for us and a better chance of flipping the loyalties of other individuals from one side to the other_ , Maínomai finished mentally, adding what Schöne hadn't said.

"Accurate, yet so wrong: Housekeeping and Medical are off-limits in terms of being _targeted_ , as are the Rains. Not that they can't change sides, be saboteurs, spies or even shields if you can convince a few." He listed off a few suggestions for how that could work. Notably he figured that since Raas was over on Bel's side, it meant they had Ghul on theirs; Ghul who could Alter his body and be a wonderful saboteur so long as his involvement was circumspect. Also, recruiting more of Housekeeping's apprentices was never a bad idea, especially if you could bring along a skilled individual like Mab to their side; Housekeeping couldn't be targeted but they could be _involved_ in more than just supplying materials.

"Oh," The Lady Lighting replied, looking devious and dangerous as she thought and plotted; Maínomai felt so proud. "So what's Bel's second advantage?"

"His utilization of identified resources. Housekeeping and Medical are technically neutral, but you could interfere there. It makes things much harder for him if he doesn't have easy access to supplies. While most supplies can be bought or Mist-conjured, there are some things that can't be. Food for example can't, as it's not real, even if your body thinks it is; bad things happen when cells end up missing bits of protein that they previously had. Still, it's not like Housekeeping takes responsibility for what happens to the food after it has left the kitchen unless they're cleaning it up. On a side note, most pharmaceuticals can be Mist-conjured without serious effects as unlike food, it is merely effecting what's already there instead of adding to it." Complete with side-effects even, depending on how the Mist Flames were used.

"So you're suggesting infiltrating or influencing various people to the defenders' side, possibly in order to sabotage the besiegers' food or other amenities. That would interfere with their morale..." she was obviously thinking ahead about what could be done. Schöne had clearly benefited from lessons from someone. Maybe Mab? "So what's my third mistake?"

"The third is that you're meeting him on his terms." He explained with a smile, because Bel had clearly done the last on purpose; maybe not from the start, but most certainly starting several days before the whole incident with the cavalry. "See, Bel's set this whole thing up in such a way that you're drawn into thinking in certain ways. The fact he has more skilled and experienced Varia on his side is due to charisma, purpose and momentum; it means you've got the less experienced and the less inventive as defenders for a number of reasons. It makes you feel the need to do more things yourself instead of delegate, which limits your movements and the flexibility of the defenders, which pressures you further because you know Bel has stacked things in his favour and it makes you feel a bit trapped. So you feel frantic, frustrated and that makes knee-jerk reactions happen. Stunningly predictable, in other words."

"So it's a psychological attack too. I expected there to be one, but didn't recognise it."

"It's Bel. It's a clever set-up requiring minimal effort on his part. He's rather predictable like that. So do you know what we do now?"

"Flip the game-board?"

"No. We're going to play a _leetle_ bit outside the usual rules. Nothing illegal or against regulations, but most certainly it's going to be inventive." Maínomai promised.

* * *

Bel knew that Maínomai's involvement would change things. He had only miscalculated in exactly how much.

Then again the rest of his War Council had also done the same. He had thought between Mammon, Kuchisake and Oversight that they'd be prepared for what the manic Mist might do; they had not, which was why they were stuck speaking in their native languages. Not that they hadn't tried otherwise, but they really couldn't speak anything but their first language. They could at least write and sign in other languages, but this crippled the besiegers' communications to a practical standstill. Some squads had only had one common language and not all of them were fluent in the rest of their squad-mates' native languages.

Kuchisake cursed fluently as she waved a hand over Oversight's head; Mammon was observing the scene and then there was a sense of unravelling around the blond Mist. Oversight spoke a few phrases and tongue-twisters in half a dozen languages within the minute. Kuchisake's native language wasn't an issue for everyone to understand but Bel didn't know Oversight's native language and neither did Sarja. Sekti, his manservant, could translate for them or have Kuchisake do so however haltingly. Mammon could have done so as well, but Bel would rather have more money in his bank account to pay Mammon with later than have to pay for translations and information concerning what Maínomai had done when someone else could do so for free. Kuchisake had succeeded.

"Fixed." Oversight declared in German.

"How difficult?" Sarja asked in French; Sarja had grown up bilingual, so was one of the few people in the camp still capable of speaking more than one language.

"A little more serious than the light-hearted pranks, but less difficult than trying to map the contingencies of his petty revenge pranks." Kuchisake replied in Italian, the standard version rather than any of the local dialects. "From my estimate it's going to wear off in less than a day. Bull-headed attempts to speak non-native languages make it last longer, but the criteria for how much longer wasn't clear while I was untangling and examining it."

Wanhope signed something about loops and limits. Unfortunately Bel's native language didn't have 'feedback loops' as part of its native vocabulary, or even anything close. Because Maínomai really was that thorough, as Bel had already found out when he tried.

Sarja being Canadian and bi-lingual naturally could actually say it; English was clearly exempt from whatever restrictions were limiting vocabulary because it was English and thus a mix of about six different languages with conflicting rules at its simplest levels. English was morphologically based instead of phonologically based, so individual words had their own grammar rules that were important for fluency. It was a language that had gone mad long ago. "Feedback loops, possibly feeding on mental energy as reinforcement for the construct?"

"Personalization of constructs too," Oversight added, "otherwise Bel wouldn't be so limited."

Bel just frowned, and then purposely flicked fingers and hands in order to communicate. It was easier than working with the limited vocabulary currently at his disposal.

"There're a lot more complications with yours, Prince Bel." Oversight explained, eyes shimmering with some sort of Mist-Enchantment. "I have no idea what about a third of those clauses are supposed to be regulating, so I do not wish to poke them."

"Maínomai was good while he was Cursed, despite his faults. I suppose this means we're going to get to see first-hand how good he is in other areas." Mammon made a humming sound. "It'll be good data." Considering that the Mist Arcobaleno had switched languages, whatever Maínomai did had been broken; just making it stick to the Mist Officer in the first place had been impressive.

"Excuse me for not looking forward to trying to invade when Maínomai practically has free-reign to be a nuisance and the fact that he's very good at laying out traps for the unwary." Kuchisake replied tartly, still in Italian.

"I have remind myself that he's not as harmless as he looks." Sarja admitted wryly. "Otherwise it feels like being mad at a puppy; a fluffy one with big sad eyes."

"And that," his manservant spoke up in his native Russian, "is exactly one of the reasons he is going to be a devious enemy. I suspect that the vector for this Enchantment was probably so harmless we overlooked it."

"He spread it through the ground!" Oversight realized. Bel guessed that he didn't know how or was still puzzling the act out since the Mist didn't elaborate; Bel knew that the immediate grounds and somewhat beyond of the Varia Estate was actually covered by a Territory that Mammon controlled. As long as the cheeky baby Ruled and maintained that Territory, no large scale changes or even damages could happen. It was one of the reasons that while furniture had to be replaced frequently, walls and other structural components weren't; doors were frequent casualties so Housekeeping kept a supply of replacements to hand, but windows were not and had to be ordered in specially. Otherwise the Varia would likely have destroyed their castle ages ago.

"Oh, that _is_ clever." Mammon commented, but didn't elaborate further; Mammon wouldn't, not without payment. "What other clever ideas will you have, I wonder?"

* * *

"Pýř's helping with coordination." Kuchisake told Sarja as the Storm removed his shirt to wring it out more thoroughly; he'd rather not absorb anything through his skin that might have been mixed in with the ice-cold water that had been dumped on him. Just no. "Maínomai's good, but he's not usually one to be this precise with timing. Clauses worked into things account for the more conventional entrances, but not everything. Clauses take thought, consideration and effort, at least for most people. It says that he's improved a lot more than we knew of or that he's not bothering with covering all contingencies he can think of by directly activating his Alterations and Enchantments at will. So Pýř."

"And yet gravity was Altered in that hallway, leaving us to be floating targets. We couldn't even get momentum from pushing, so we had to pull ourselves out of there, which says that Newton's Third Law was Altered in there too," Sarja supplied, which was neat in theory but far more messy in practice; it could have easily been lethal. A build-up of carbon dioxide in the lungs as the air couldn't be pushed out or some form of failure in the circulatory system since the heart acted as a pump that pushed fresh oxygenated blood out around the body. How would you even design a system or set of clauses to keep violations of the principle of 'equal but opposite' reactions so that movement and life was possible? Alteration as a Mist-specialty was something he hadn't really considered in-depth compared to say, engineering which he did have degrees in. He hadn't had reason to, between Storm Squad and Problem Squad's problems which were far more interesting than calculating structural stress or costs of design had ever been.

"There are benefits of being a specialist in the Abstract." Kuchisake looked Sarja over and not in admiration he felt; their feint for the plan this evening had failed in a rather one-sided manner. "He's keeping things simple, since there're no clauses or traps sticking to you that I can see; those take a bit of thought to lay-out and more energy to set up. That's more conservation of resources since Alteration does take more Flames to do than any other specialty aside from Territories. The problem is we're giving him time: time to recover, to layer and to tweak our noses. Which means Schöne is less pressed and less predictable as a result."

Sarja nodded, accepting Kuchisake's analysis. Not the best news to bring his superior, especially since the feint hadn't gone well at all. Belphegor would not be happy, not even knife-happy, which was better for him personally as the bearer of bad news. "So Pýř's coordinating. How?"

"Some of the best Flame-senses in the Varia: very precise." She said nothing more. Which was all sorts of telling, even if she hadn't stopped looking at him.

And as Sarja had learned, with Mists and Clouds precision was _everything_ , reserves coming in a distant second. Both required it, Mists for how 'real' things were and to be put to best use so no one would notice. But for Clouds, who cared how powerful their Flames were if they couldn't be used to make copies of weapons that would actually hold up to battle-stress? Or knew how _not_ to tear themselves apart by propagating force or momentum without also re-enforcing their body? Plus Kuchisake was hinting, so it wasn't her secret to share and the only reasons she was bringing it up was because of its tactical value and Sarja had the rank to know when staying silent was the best option.

"That so?" He asked, deciding to let the conversation drop.

"Also I think you're breaking out in a rash."

"Tell Bel I'm off to visit Medical." Sarja said. Kuchisake nodded as he tried to resist the urge to scratch the creeping red bumps that he now knew were there and were starting to itch.

Getting kidnapped was _not_ on his to-do list, yet he was still abducted on his way back from Medical. The last thing Sarja heard was, "Time for a leetle nap."

* * *

Chacal sprawled comfortably across the top of the massive dresser that had been moved into the top of the tower above Cloud Division, playing with his yoyo and watching Maínomai flit about the room, layering Alteration after Enchantment into the walls, floor, ceiling and furniture. The usually-empty room now had a much higher ceiling, massive art nouveau windows on three sides, fancy drapes and all the traditional trappings of a fairytale princess's bedchamber, double canopy bed included.

That the person fast asleep in the middle of the bed was Sarja made the whole thing three times as hilarious. Sarja was just not who you thought of as an example of the Sleeping Beauty stereotype. The Storm Squad Leader was a bit too abrasive and viciously sarcastic to even meet huntsman levels of behaviour, much less princely standards or the demureness required of royal maidens.

"You need more roses," Chacal pointed out mildly when the Mist finally stopped fiddling with the rug, flipping his yoyo around his fingers. The yoyo had nothing whatsoever to do with his fighting style or specialisation, but it made a wonderful distraction and Ottabio got this lovely tic in his cheek every time he did tricks with it during meetings. Chacal was all for anything that ruined the Cloud Officer's day, so the yoyo was staying.

"The original story has thorns and brambles, not roses," Maínomai corrected him absently, "and they were outside the tower, not inside it."

Chacal accepted the correction easily; he didn't care either way, but if Maínomai wanted to be authentic then there was no reason why not. "Think Raas could set up a triggered Territory on the way up if I and some of Housekeeping helped him?"

Maínomai hummed thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling as he fiddled with the cuff of his uniform jacket. Understandable as they'd have to surreptitiously recruit Raas from Bel's camp first; doing so would break up Bel's effective monopoly on the Mist Division since Bel currently had the Mist Officer, Mist Squad Leader and the Mist General Manager in his camp. They might even get more defectors out of it.

Chacal was a Cloud, but he didn't care about the stupid 'Clouds and Mists hate each-other' shit, mainly because he didn't have anything to prove. His Squad Leader appreciated him and hers was the only opinion that mattered to him, other than Boss's of course but Boss wasn't here so Chacal was happy to just answer to Gwasgedd until Boss got back.

Gwasgedd was happy to answer to Squalo in the meantime, but that was her choice. Chacal wouldn't have cared if she'd decided to answer to the man in the moon, so long as she still wanted him on her Squad. People said Clouds all wanted to be in charge of everything, unfettered and free, but that was horse manure; Clouds who were obsessed with authority and control were that way because they didn't trust anybody else to do it right on their behalf. Chacal on the other hand had complete faith in his Squad Leader, so he was perfectly content to leave the decision-making in her capable hands. She knew what he and Vyöry wanted and they trusted her to take that into consideration.

Case in point, Gwasgedd had decided upon returning to the Varia Mansion that she wanted to be on the opposite side of the siege from Bel, so her Squad had followed her lead and now Chacal was helping Maínomai set up a room out of a Perrault fairytale. Mostly Chacal had been involved in carrying the furniture up the narrow staircase: his specialty was Miniaturisation, a rare application of Multiplication, so it hadn't been any trouble moving everything at once. In his pockets, even.

That Maínomai wanted real furniture was a bit odd, but this was his show so they'd raided the guest suites. The newly-redecorated tower looked very fairy-tale as a result.

"Have you done Territory work before?" Maínomai asked, wandering over to the door and poking the frame with one finger.

Chacal grinned. "I apprenticed under Fixer for a bit," he admitted, "so of course Purple Man kept on butting in and bending my brain in pretty shapes." Fixer and Purple Man had been in the previous incarnation of Marvel Squad and had worked under Deadpool before he retired. They were both retired now as well and off somewhere doing something far enough away from the Varia Mansion that they didn't visit much, but rumour had it they were quite disgustingly domestic in a homicidal kind of way.

"He did that a lot didn't he?" Maínomai commiserated brightly. "Not as badly as Deadpool does though."

"Nobody's as bad as Deadpool," Chacal stated flatly. "Not even Wanhope is as bad as Deadpool."

"That's a totally different kind of bad," Maínomai pointed out.

"Not really: Wanhope changes your perception of reality, but Deadpool just goes straight for warping reality," Chacal rebutted. "I'm much more comfortable with the problem being in my head than with the world being broken."

Maínomai laughed. "You should tell him that," the energetic Mist said; "he'd get a kick out of it."

"He probably already knows," Chacal drawled, flicking his yoyo so it danced around his fingers again. "I do live here."

"Eh, true, but words matter," Maínomai insisted, wandering back to the bed and prodding Sarja's booted foot. The Storm Squad Leader was fully dressed in his uniform as usual, which made the fact he was lying on top of scarlet silk sheets and strewn with tiny white flowers all the more hilarious. That the flowers were Meadowsweet made it even better; in the language of flowers they signified uselessness, which was a taunt to at least three separate people –other than Sarja– on multiple levels.

"I will do then," Chacal agreed, "but later."

"Later," Maínomai echoed, chewing absently on a hangnail for a few seconds. "C'mon, let's go talk to Raas! I want to try out your Territory idea; what did you have in mind?"

"Well, you know I do Miniaturisation, right? Well…"

* * *

"Sarja is missing?"

"He never came back from Medical after lunch," Oversight said tersely. "We originally thought he'd been kept in for the afternoon –Kuchisake mentioned he'd picked up a rash of some kind– but it turns out he got disappeared on his way back. We don't know who or how, but it has to have been someone who could have hidden their actions from casual notice."

In other words, a strong Mist; Maínomai was the strongest Mist not aligned with the besiegers, so it had probably been him. Bel was slightly impressed: it was a move that was calculated to reduce morale and interfere with his own plans, while boosting the morale of Maínomai's chosen side. Problem Squad were likely to be even more problematic than usual with their Leader disappeared who-knew-where and it spoke well of the Mist's skills that he'd been able to abscond with the Storm Squad Leader this discreetly.

"Anything else?"

Oversight nodded. "There is now a massive bramble infestation growing up the section of the mansion we are besieging and thorn bushes growing through the lawn. Blades aren't doing anything to them, so probably a Sun-Lightning cooperation. Oh, and dinner got through fine."

Bel paused. "Ushishishi… wait, nobody tried _anything_ with the food? No ambush, no sabotage, no interference?"

Oversight paused, then his eyes widened and he dashed out of the pavilion towards the mess tent, Bel and Wanhope right behind him. The Prince made a mental note of how very swiftly the mute Mist could move when he bothered to make the effort; peasant he might have been, but peasants had killed royals in the past.

It was like a scene out of a movie: Varia were slumped over the tables and flopped on the grass like clothes come loose from a washing line, limp-limbed and tangled up. They were all breathing, but Bel could hear enough snores, giggles and polyglot word-vomit to know what had happened to his men.

"They're all high," Oversight confirmed bemusedly. "It's not an actual drug, which is why it got missed: the food is not contaminated at all."

"What is it then?" People did not just randomly get high.

Oversight examined the remains of the meal more carefully. "I think it's Altered; very subtle work. The food is fine, but upon being ingested it reacts with various chemical systems in the body to manufacture brain chemistry similar to that of a cat on catnip while inhibiting Flame manipulation. Human brains and cat brains are different, so I think they might be buzzed on love hormones. Love-drunk, I think it's called, but I don't know enough about brain chemistry to even attempt to end this early. It's totally harmless and very responsibly arranged, but very inconvenient for us."

"Ushishishi," Bel sniggered. This was completely hilarious, if indeed highly inconvenient; he would have to wait for this to wear off before these people –a good third of his forces– were recovered, which might take anything from a few hours to several days. "We will have to scale down our next assault then."

Over behind one of the far tables, Wanhope had bundled Fuseau over one shoulder and was carrying his Squad Leader out of the tent. The spindly Mist was mumbling incomprehensively to himself, a dopey grin on his face. This was not an opportunity that should be wasted.

"Peasant, give me your camera," Bel ordered Oversight. "This should be properly documented."

* * *

In the end it was early morning before the besiegers got organised again, due to an assault on the camp by the Varia's entire feline population. Those high as kites on Altered biochemistry were left alone, but everybody else was viciously mauled by the very intelligent, very large and utterly terrifying beasts. It was completely underhanded and unfair of Maínomai to press the cats into service like that because technically the cats belonged to Housekeeping, so any violence against them would get those Varia involved into trouble with Tyrant, who was a cat person.

As a result most of the besiegers still conscious spent half the night running away from furious, screeching felines as the Mists tried to find out what the exact problem was and fix it; not easy when the cats refused to sit still and were exhibiting a truly suspicious level of Flame immunity. The Varia's cats were not like any other breed of cats; highly intelligent, dangerous and possessive with often unpredictable whims. Then again, that was what happened when you had so many varieties of cat species bred into the more domestic house-cat over successive generations. That many had likely have been Altered before they were even born made it worse; Bel mentally likened the Varia's cats to the result of something like a wizard doing a long term experimental breeding project and constantly changing him mind about what he wanted to achieve.

"Abstract Lightning application," Kuchisake snarled, her hair even more of a tangled mess than usual and her eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep by the time the invasion was properly repelled. "Whatever Alteration it is, _somebody_ has helped him make it Hard to decipher and unravel. As if he needed the help there!"

The 'somebody' would probably be one of the Lightning Ladies, both of whom were making astonishing leaps and bounds in their pursuit of non-physical things Hardening could be used for.

Wanhope signed 'force multiplier', which Bel found himself agreeing with. Lightnings by themselves had limited utility outside of the strictly physical, or so everybody had always believed; however it was clear that a Lightning working in partnership with another Flame-user could dramatically increase the strength and quality of their work. It also suggested that Lightning had immense utility in subterfuge and espionage, since a person could make themselves Hard to read, or indeed Hard to suspect.

"Everybody injured visit Medical, then sleep," Bel decided. "We can get a slightly later start in tomorrow for once."

* * *

"We'll be fine for the day," Schöne assured him, pulling back from the hug. "Go do whatever; I'll call if I need advice and Mjölnir has some fun things in mind."

"I know you'll be fine; you're awesome," Maínomai said cheerfully. "That twist you put on the cat trick was just magnificently evil; was it Mab taught you to think like that?"

Schöne fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Oh, a lady never reveals her secrets," she cooed coquettishly. "Now shoo before anybody else wakes up and notices you leaving."

"Remember, Deadpool–"

"Yes, yes, you said already," Schöne sighed, pushing him at Pýř. "I know! He's upstairs waxing lyrical over Mjölnir right this minute and gushing in his boxes about how she'd make a wonderful addition to Marvel Squad, so _leave_ , please?"

Pýř snorted and dragged Maínomai down towards the garage, which was entirely unnecessary, seriously! He was going! Going to spend the day with Erica and her kids had been his idea in the first place! Which is why he had found Deadpool at stupidly early o' clock this morning and convinced the retired founder of Marvel Squad to take his place for the day, since otherwise the defenders were short a strong Mist which would make things less amusing. Thankfully it wasn't that hard to talk the man into it: holding Sarja hostage limited what the besiegers might do but Deadpool being himself and the Jabberwock meant that he and Pýř had quite a bit of time free to visit Erica. While they hadn't made a secret of their intentions, Deadpool's involvement on their side was still not common knowledge. Springing Deadpool on the besiegers as a surprise was only a leetle mean and a lot more funny.

Once they were in the garage however Pýř paused, eyeballing the severely reduced line-up of vehicles with an expression of profound doubt.

"Nothing with augmented steering?" Maínomai guessed. Since the prank campaign had initially targeted Ottabio's Clouds, it made sense that those Clouds not too proud to flee the mansion had commandeered the cars with hyper-sensitive steering.

Pýř grunted, his eyes falling speculatively on the motorbikes lined up against the far wall.

"Or I could just take us up there," Maínomai pointed out. He wasn't a big fan of motorbikes, especially if he wasn't allowed to drive. They weren't very safe.

"Let's go then," Pýř agreed, wrapping a hand around Maínomai's upper arm so Maínomai could teleport them to just outside the Vongola's boundaries.

* * *

It was obvious where Sarja was imprisoned, Gwasgedd thought. A tower, circled with brambles, was fairly blatant. Which meant that the besiegers had to either rescue him or ransom him back. Plus someone had to deal with Problem Squad's Problems in Sarja's absence or there would be trouble, which would put Bel's camp into various states of disarray, fouling up his plans. Sarja's former Problems and his current Problems would all be strongly in favour of rescuing the Storm Squad Leader as quickly as possible.

The problem with all those Problems was that they had all been assigned to Sarja's Problem Squad for a _reason_. Problematic Varia either fixed themselves, were punished by their peers and superiors for _not_ fixing themselves, ended up dead or got placed in Problem Squad. Not that being on Problem Squad magically fixed their issues, but Sarja was the sort of thoughtful and emotionally aware assassin that was also mean and caring enough to be the equivalent of the Varia's camp counsellor. If Captain Squalo could call the Varia 'the world's most violent kindergarten' then Sarja could be the camp counsellor for the very troubled kids. Sarja might not be able to fix or solve the issues of his charges but he could teach and prod the people on his Squad into fixing things for themselves or coping in a way that was healthier.

Which was why spiriting Sarja away was such a good move on Maínomai's part. The focus of the besiegers was split, which the defenders could take advantage of. Unless Bel managed to come up with a truly spectacular plan, all of Sarja's Problems –former or current– would be Bel's to manage. And Bel didn't like problems he couldn't solve or murder his way out of.

Because it was so obvious and going to be very problematic for Bel and the besiegers if an effort to rescue Sarja wasn't made promptly, Gwasgedd was grateful that Maínomai had gone a little crazy in preparing for the eventual assault. Non-lethal but disorienting, mind-bending and reality-altering, with a very real possibility of being actually Altered. Gwasgedd knew about a few specific rooms just from listening to her Clouds, which involved a 'distorted corridor' and 'terror trellis' which seemed to be very outrageous and only possible because they had recruited Raas to the defenders' side. Well, technically Ghul had done the recruiting and even now the two friends were busily competing in making the most unexpected and disorientating traps.

Gwasgedd was waiting on the floor above where Sarja was sleeping; she was wearing a dress that Kuchisake had given her as something of a joke a few years ago. The dress was flattering but not at all Gwasgedd's usual punk style; hence why this was probably only the fourth time in as many years that she'd worn it. Since Sarja was busy being Sleeping Beauty, it was her job to be Maleficent; at least according to Deadpool. Maínomai's original plan had not been at all Disney but Deadpool was Mist-in-charge now so he got to call the shots.

Really all she had to do was wait and help direct her Squad in controlling the corridors, floors and rooms that lead to the tower, some of which did not actually exist. Chacal had helped to plan several of the rooms and the route up the tower; it had to be possible after all, or else it was cheating. There were multiple routes, even! Not that it would be easy. Maínomai had turned the tower below them into what Vyöry said was 'an imaginary Rubik's cube of torment for those within it.'

And if anyone managed to make it up to Sarja's room, she had the job of pushing them through the floor and down the warped space to the bottom of the tower, where the Jabberwock awaited them. The flighty Mist was being trickier than Gwasgedd had thought he would be, since the tower, brambles and more meant that people would expect a far more 'purist' version of the fairytale, rather than something inspired by Lewis Carroll and augmented by Deadpool.

"Snicker-snack, guess who's back?" Deadpool asked, bouncing into the room. _He's miles away and chortling about the Jabberwock._ The little yellow boxes narrated. _Guess who is going to have so much fun?_

"We are," Chacal pointed out as he played cat's cradle with his yo-yo.

"Are the other surprises ready?" Gwasgedd asked, and not just because she knew what the 'Vorpal Blade' currently was.

"Oh, are they ever!" _And lots of other tricks too!_

Gwasgedd mentally wished the besiegers luck; they'd need it to convince Squalo to slay the Jabberwock, since it wasn't like Squalo would ever let someone borrow his sword...

* * *

Deadpool stood dramatically on the battlements of the castle, his cloak billowing atmospherically in the morning light. _He'd had to borrow a cloak specially but it was totally worth it; you really needed a cloak for standing dramatically on battlements in when you were about to utterly crush the opposition._

"Is everybody in position, Mulan?" _Because of course the petite, kickass Chinese darling is a Disney princess in her own right; how could she not be?_ Deadpool hummed a few bars of 'Gonna Make A Man Out Of You,' then reminded himself that it was unnecessary: _Mulan has already made a woman out of herself and that woman is probably going to be Lightning Squad Leader at some point._

"Everybody in position, properly fed, supplied with snacks and drinks and the cameras are all set to record," Mjölnir confirmed, a small satisfied smile on her face. Deadpool swooned; _Oh, the look of a woman about to crush her enemies underneath her perfectly manicured feet! Nothing can match it! Kill me now!_

The Chinese teenager rolled her eyes at his little yellow boxes. "Is everything recording in the imaginary spaces?"

Deadpool bounced upright, a green beret on his head as he saluted enthusiastically. "Yes Sir, all cameras operational and recording!" _We're going to make a mint in blackmail material and embarrassment on the next video evening!_

"Good, good," Mjölnir said, smile widening evilly. "I think it's time to give the camp a proper wakeup call."

* * *

The problem with Sarja being missing, Kuchisake mused blearily over her cup of coffee, was that he did just as much as Sekti to keep Storm Division running smoothly. Sekti dealt with paperwork and Sarja managed the social side, making sure all the various insecurities Storms were prone to were crushed underfoot on a regular basis and appropriately managed at all times. There was a reason Sarja's Squad was called Problem Squad and it wasn't because he was a dumping ground; Problem Squad was the Varia's answer to occupational therapy, where a problematic assassin learnt to manage their foibles in a constructive and productive manner.

Sarja had been running Problem Squad for more than four years now and most of his Squad members left his care after six months to a year at the most; on paper it had an unusually high turnover for a Named Squad but that was more evidence of Sarja's success than anything else. Some people rotated in and out of Problem Squad every so often, but the only long-term members were Tetro and Arcigno, two Lightnings who were completely non-functional when in separate Squads and a train wreck when together despite being highly competent in their respective fields and unusually emotionally stable. Admittedly 'stable' in Tetro's case meant 'chronically depressed' and Arcigno had never met an order he couldn't completely misinterpret entirely by accident, but under Sarja the incidents tended to be mild rather than 'oops, we almost failed the mission' so Sarja got to keep them. The two looked very similar, as they were cousins and barely a month apart in age, so they often got mistaken for each-other.

Tetro and Arcigno had found out that Sarja was missing rather than just held overnight in Medical shortly after being woken up by the Conjured cartoon brass band playing the _Fanfare for the Common Man_ in the middle of the camp shortly after seven in the morning. However rather than go back to bed in his tent and cry, Tetro had started panicking and Arcigno, in what had apparently been a visibly desperate attempt to stave off a very messy breakdown, had suggested they storm the fairytale tower to get Sarja back.

Everybody knew Sarja was in the fairytale tower, because after the fanfare the conductor had produced a bell, rung it a few times and made the announcement in full town crier style before popping out of existence with the rest of the brass band. Tetro's near-breakdown had therefore been public enough that Arcigno's suggestion had been met with enthusiastic agreement from the rest of Sarja's Problems present and a good number of their other friends and associates.

Three entire Squads' worth of people were therefore storming the castle already, despite not having yet eaten breakfast and not having checked in with Bel, Sekti, Oversight or any other members of the Command Team. Which had to have been deliberate on the part of the defenders, because the majority of the Command Team had barely got four hours sleep after chasing cats for half the night; Kuchisake for one had not actually left her tent for the fanfare and buried her head under her pillow while cursing Maínomai to the depths on hell for this stunt. A premature accusation, the Mist Squad Leader now realised; seeing Deadpool standing on the roof of the thorn-wrapped tower with an arm slung around Mjölnir's shoulders, Kuchisake had to admit that this was a really excellent comeback on the Lightning's part.

When would people start defecting to the defender's side, if they hadn't already? Deadpool was bad enough when he was on your side and Oversight had already been forced to admit that he couldn't see _anything_ in the tower, not even when he sent his scouts inside.

Bel had thus decided to go with the flow: he was coordinating the planned singing attack with half of their forces, to occupy those defenders not managing the tower, while Fuseau –as the most highly placed Mist who had actually slept through the night– was in charge of setting up more groups to enter the tower. Wanhope would be collecting the information from the people who were kicked out –as they already knew happened to those who 'died' at any point– so that later incursions would be better informed.

Fuseau was also leading a Mist-heavy team made up of himself, Oversight, Kuchisake and Trol, who as a Lightning and member of Grimm Squad was one of the few of the men to have managed to make any inroads on the non-physical applications of his Flame-type. That he was one of those recruited by Squalo in China probably had a lot to do with that; he hadn't been put through the intensive mental conditioning the mafia inflicted on their Lightnings. He was also fully rested, having been drugged during dinner the previous evening, so was in top form.

Well, Deadpool might be running the show, but Kuchisake was certain that Maínomai had set most of it up, so it was bound to be amusing and interesting and not too traumatic. She was rather looking forward to it.

* * *

The Tower Run was going down in Varia History, of that the Besiegers and Fuseau were sure. The Tower in terms of construction was a collective work of art, both internally and externally. A cohesive conglomeration of Enchantments, Rules, Alterations and Conjurations; that it was working fluidly together was the most impressive part as not all those schools of thought were at all compatible, especially when multiple people were working together. Yet the tower worked and did so brilliantly.

The Tower would be much easier to admire if it weren't so confusing and frustrating. The previous Problems had been found soon after Fuseau's Team arrived and had already worked out some of the Rules. Falling into the abyss off a platform didn't 'kill' you so much as send the person who fell back to the entry room. The flamingo and gnome inspired monsters were done by Alterations that returned them to their normal shape after being defeated for five minutes before they turned back into monsters. The 'ghosts' were created by Deadpool and they gave hints and taunts and had to be defeated to progress further. The 'ghosts' didn't reset, but what they said could be found on the wall in yellow boxes after the room had been cleared of 'ghosts.' Some of which were clearly Deadpool ramblings, so they had no idea if they were trustworthy or just nonsense.

There were rooms with switches that needed to be pressed to move to the next room, rooms with hidden rooms, leaps of faith that ended up in hidden rooms, fake walls and more. Fuseau thought that someone had clearly been inspired by Zelda games. He however didn't voice that sentiment, because if that was everything the tower could throw at them, then no matter how problematic the Tower could be solved with patience, paying attention and brute force.

The main problem the Problems were having was getting up to the top because the rooms moved. There were a range of switches, some of which were hidden and some blatant, but often in hidden rooms they couldn't get to at the moment. The switches that controlled the movements of the rooms were a system that needed to be explored and documented so no one ended up lost or caught up in room with another mid-boss type monster complete with title, because those named bosses could not be defeated by any single Varia. The Rules prevented it.

That the rooms of the tower moved was a Problem and not one of Sarja's; Fuseau let them curse and comment now, much like they had earlier when they realized that there were extra floors in the Tower and therefore that they were playing in a Territory or something so close to it that there really wasn't a difference.

"That makes a normal map useless." Kuchisake groused, as one of her less creepy but more physically imposing Conjurations prowled around the room.

"Tha Tower's solvable and there's four possible paths ta chose from going by tha hints. We know tha' this is a tricky place, so we're gonna have ta make sure tha' we don't miss a step somewhere and end up at tha start. Again." Fuseau told his team and the Problems calmly.

"We also don't want to get more separated than we have to. Trol ended up dropping in on the Wart because he was alone," Kuchisake added. 'Wart' being a big floating eye of a mid-boss that was surrounded by bouncing slime bubbles that had to be removed so that people shoot the vulnerable parts, because the eye had scaled green armoured eyelids.

It took them several hours and no less than three more 'mid-boss' fights to reach the top of the Tower. By then they were feeling the accumulative effects of continuous exercise and a lack of food, which showed in tempers and sloppiness. Particularly for the Problems, who hadn't bothered with breakfast or much planning before charging in.

Having reached the top their goal was in sight, as there was Sarja sleeping on a fairy-tale princess style bed in a very fairytale inspired room. High ceiling, ornate heavy furniture that Fuseau was willing to swear he'd seen in one of the storage rooms before, stained glass windows. There were even flowers, although Fuseau didn't know what kind.

"Meadowsweet." Oversight identified. "It means uselessness, in the language of flowers."

That wasn't a good sign, but much like the rest of the Tower, there was too much Mist-work around them to isolate any truly well hidden traps. There had been far _too_ many of those in the Tower, designed to get people lost, disoriented and separated; no one liked playing sacrifice so that a set of rooms could be moved into position.

That did explain why as a group they completely missed the trap as Gwasgedd fell from the ceiling and pushed them through the floor. They fell through twisted Mist-Space just long enough adjust to the fact before they landed in a heap. A heap that quickly jumped to their respective feet when dramatic Boss music started and a title appeared, floating in the darkness that got a little brighter as the monster approached.

No, not any old monster, the 'Terror of Wonderland, The Jabberwock' approached, burbling and with eyes of Flame. Fuseau winced; this was going to _hurt_ , considering the Rules he could feel bearing down on them.

* * *

Schöne had taken advantage of the fact that with Sarja in the Tower and all of the hard work that went into it, Bel would be missing at least half of his people for most of the day; it depended on how fast they figured out they needed to get Squalo to slay the Jabberwock –the beast was known as the Jabberwock but the poem was 'The Jabberwocky' as she had learned– and how quickly they could get up to Sarja again afterwards. Then they still had to get past Gwasgedd, which might be challenging depending on the Rain's mood. Between those 'rescuing' Sarja and Bel's own planned assault... the camp would be practically undefended. Not entirely, but those not joining would be few and far in-between.

Which mean that sabotage would never be easier and so was an opportunity to seize. She couldn't send Deadpool out –she had no idea where he even was beyond being vaguely nearby– but that didn't mean she was out of options, even if her preferred people were elsewhere.

She had to be here to coordinate which left her with a shortage of people to lead that; Gwasgedd, her two Clouds and both Raas and Ghul were all at the Tower. Mjölnir was riding herd on Deadpool. She only needed a few people although more than two Squads worth was asking for trouble of the being noticed kind, but the rest of them were needed here.

Now, who to choose as saboteurs?

* * *

Wanhope realised he was the most senior Mist present in the camp at about the same time as he noticed the small force of saboteurs sneaking in from behind the rose garden. That would not do; a bout of absentmindedness would derail them just fine.

* * *

Bel's first warning that the defenders were taking advantage of the besiegers' commitment to the Tower Raid to mount a counter-attack was the fine, cloying mist rising from the vegetation along their left flank. It was entirely _unlike_ anything he'd ever seen from any of the Varia's Mists before now. Well, not _entirely_ unlike but there were no groaning, shambling monsters or creepy whispers so it wasn't Kuchisake's work –even though she was in the Tower it could have been a triggered trap– and it didn't move quite right to be an authentic Conjured weather phenomenon. It was too fine, moved wrong and was not at all the right colour.

The Prince's impression was that _only_ those under his command could even _see_ the odd mist, which made it likely to be Wanhope's work as Wanhope was the only Mist in the camp with both the range and the light touch for something like that. He immediately sent a small party to investigate; one made up of people who were smart enough _not_ to try and see what the mist was. He also ordered the immediate commencement of the Musical Offensive, as if there was a flanking ambush being comprehensively foiled by the Puppeteer then the defenders were even further depleted right now.

"Wanhope is defending the camp; charge!"

The Mists, Suns and Clouds collaborating for the Musical Virus quickly moved through the ranks, brushing hands and tapping shoulders as the assault party stormed forwards. Bel joined the headlong rush as he felt the Enchantment take; it was technically a trap Enchantment, one that would activate the moment a person fighting against them made a mental association that 'matched' one of the ones the trap was primed for. The list was fairly extensive; Bel hadn't realised quite _how_ popular Disney movies were among certain Varia until today and had been introduced to a few he'd never previously heard of. It was also virulently contagious due to the Cloud-component, so it was very likely that _everyone_ would be singing at some point or other; probably dancing too if they fought too hard.

"–ollowing the leader, the leader, the leader," Bel heard being sung behind him as they stormed through the depleted flamingo field and up the walls a decent distance away from the bramble-wrapped tower, "following the leader, wherever he may go!"

Bel cackled. This was going to be magnificently messy!

* * *

"To Ratigan; to Ratigan; the world's greatest criminal mind!"

"–yam what I yam what I–"

"–clear from your vacant expressions; the lights are not all on upstairs; but we're talking kings and successions; even you can't be caught–"

 _Seriously though, who'd a thunk Neprírodan had such a good voice?_ Deadpool mused, perched on the top of the flagpole. _He's got range and he's really giving it his all. Good song, too._

"I know it sounds sordid; but you'll be rewarded; when at last I am given my dues; and injustice deliciously squared; be prepared!" The manically grinning Sun sang on in German with very obvious enjoyment as he used Fulmen's unconscious body to bludgeon three besiegers off the top of the battlements.

 _See, this is what Kuchisake overexposure does to people; and they say_ _ **I**_ _traumatise people!_ Deadpool shook his head sorrowfully. _The song repertoire's a bit limited though._

"It's like a movie; it's a B movie show…" _Wait, is that from 'The Brave Little Toaster'? Somebody has taste!_

"–r restaurant and I'm your Maitre d'; come on whisper what it is you want; you ain't never had a friend like me!"

Deadpool scowled, the expression on his mask turning sour. _Hey, if anybody's going to sing that, it's going to be me!_ He straightened up, threaded his fingers together and stretched his arms above his head, spine cracking. "It's time to crash this party!"

* * *

Bel's first inkling of things going wrong –no not wrong, going _different_ which wasn't unexpected considering Deadpool was among the defenders– was Schöne suddenly pulling a staff out of nowhere and her song shifting from 'The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers' to something a bit more sinister, complete with background music and a costume change involving black robes and a turban:

"I must admit your parlour tricks are amusing; I bet you've got a bunny under your hat," The Lightning crooned in Portuguese, snapping her fingers. Varg scrambled backwards as a rabbit –a real live Flemish Giant rabbit– dropped on his face out of thin air. Off to the right Thriller music started playing and Bel nearly lost control of his feet. He'd barely wrenched back control and moved out of range of the flash crowd when sombre chords started up behind him and he was almost deafened by a shrill whistle. Then he heard his Manservant breaking into song, the large man's rich voice cutting right across the field:

"Attend the tale of Sweeny Todd; his skin was pale and his eye was odd; he shaved the faces of gentlemen who never thereafter were heard of again; he trod a path that few have trod; did Sweeny Todd; the demon barber of Fleet Street."

"He kept a shop in London Town;" Bel heard himself singing in _English_ of all languages, "of fancy clients and good renown; and what if none of their souls were saved; they went to their maker impeccably shaved; by Sweeny; by Sweeny Todd; the demon barber of Fleet Street."

The dozen or so Varia around them all burst into the chorus together, which was less tuneful than it might have been and seriously, Bel could have done _without_ the dance routine… although the song was pretty good, despite being in English. He'd have to see the play sometime.

"Swing your razor wide, Sweeny; hold it to the skies; freely flows the blood of those who moralise!"

* * *

Kuchisake appeared at the entrance of the tower, whole, sleep-deprived and utterly furious.

 _That damn Jabberwock with its selective invincibility! Can't be harmed by anything other than the Vorpal Blade!_

It would have been nice to have _known_ that prior to facing the 'Terror of Wonderland.' Those Deadpool ramblings made a tiny bit more sense now, well some of them did; the ones about food were worthless information. Too bad none of them mentioned that there was a Boss Monster in the dungeon floors of the Tower.

She was going to _kill_ Deadpool for the Jabberwock and she was so not amused that she'd even make it quick. So she could kill him again right afterwards, of course, not that she expected that death to stick either. Killing Deadpool at least once would however alleviate some of her frustration.

But before that she had a mission and that mission was rescuing Sarja; she could kill Deadpool later, even if she had to kill him in his own home. Which meant that the Jabberwock had to go first. For Sarja.

That meant they had to get the Vorpal Blade first. Thankfully, Deadpool had left enough hints for that. She could get that rather easily. She just had to leave this tower first to get it. Getting back to the Jabberwock would be easy enough; a glowing circle and a floating sign that said where the portal went had appeared in the entry room after the last of them had been killed by the Jabberwock. Things were simple.

"Kuchisake, where ya heading?" Fuseau asked; he hadn't been the first to 'die' against the Jabberwock, but he had died quickly enough in that room. Glitter-breath had a 'lethal' reach although it took a few seconds to completely 'kill' after impact.

"To get the Vorpal Blade, of course." She responded as sweetly as she could manage.

One of Sarja's Problems wished her luck, a rather meaningless platitude. Kuchisake wasn't in the mood for elaborate plans and layers of indirect untraceable methods. No, _this_ plan was simple. Get Squalo, introduce him to the Jabberwock. Send Fuseau and a few others to rescue Sarja from Gwasgedd and minions while they were killing said Jabberwock. Kill Deadpool. Take the rest of the day to relax away from the madness.

Simplicity had its benefits.

"Fuseau, why don't you take the kids back up? Take care of Gwasgedd for me."

Fuseau nodded, grim-faced.

* * *

Squalo had been discussing business with Glace and touching on how the prank war was going. They actually hadn't expected Gwasgedd to join in on it, it wasn't exactly outside the realms of possibility but it wasn't what they had thought she'd do as soon as she got back. It was now obvious that she had chosen to do so of her own free will, and even dragged her Squad along for it. That wouldn't be so interesting if it wasn't for the fact that both the Clouds in her Squad followed her without question and were very mellow for their normally very possessive and territorial Flame-type. Clearly her reason for taking a summer mission had been to avoid being made responsible for Marvel Squad in the absence of Hawkeye, not the resulting madness or even Deadpool since Deadpool had joined the Defenders for the day.

The fairy tale tower had been discussed too, because they had seen Deadpool up there earlier. It was hard to miss all the red-spandex and the enhanced voice announcing things ridiculously early in the morning. The man could have at least waited long enough for people to get some coffee and toast. Unfortunately they had no idea where the madman that had founded Marvel Squad currently was and that was worrying.

"Deadpool's not limited by being Varia," –because there were rules that the Varia had to at least pretend to obey when they circumvented them– "but at least he's only here until evening." Which was still too far away for Squalo's taste, being a few hours away still. Deadpool had better be busy with that Tower or else there was no telling what everyone that wasn't a Rain, part of Medical or Housekeeping could run into during the upcoming week. Even then it wouldn't be precisely safe for non-participants; it just meant that they weren't particularly targeted.

"If Deadpool is part of the team who set up and are maintaining the Tower, those that are besieging it are likely not amused." Glace pointed out the obvious. "But I'll take these down and to the right people." He added, waving the pile of papers in his hand at Squalo before opening the door.

Only for Glace to get surprised –those were Mist Conjured ropes around him– sending papers flying, and that was– "Kuchisake? Voi! What the? This better not be a prank." Squalo yelled before he even got a solid look at her, dashing out of his office after her as she ran to the end of the hallway and waved at him, Glace slung over one shoulder.

She looked terrible and not in the dramatic way she usually did. She looked awful in the daylight, far too pale with dark rings around bloodshot eyes. Her usual hair mess was one of frustration from where she had pulled on it rather than just for the aesthetic. She also looked completely serious and remarkably close to losing what little sense hadn't come unhinged already.

It made Squalo pause in chasing after her for three solid seconds before he raced on in pursuit of her and his kidnapped GM. He didn't want Kuchisake doing something like sacrificing Glace to some Cthulhu-like entity, which he wouldn't put past her if it meant a lifetime supply of fresh dango or the destruction of whatever had reduced her to her current state. She with kept ahead of him blatant Mist-cheating despite the extra weight and jumped over the fancy iron railing of the stairs down to the ground floor, then ran some more as he jumped down after her, using Flames to cheat gravity and land lightly on his feet.

He chased her to the courtyard and then into the Tower; he was going to get her for this. Somehow. He didn't want any part of this madness but getting Glace back was more important. Squalo stepped into the portal he'd seen Kuchisake disappear into, feeling trepidation but no less resolute for that.

The room changed and there was threatening, ominous music playing in the background. Squalo unsheathed his normally concealed and Bound-blade on instinct. A title in fancy gold lettering appeared across the room: 'Terror of Wonderland, The Jabberwock.'

His sword decided that this would be the perfect time to put on a fancy light-show and started glowing like it was a florescent light instead of a wedge of metal; it didn't even look like hot metal should. The glow illuminated Kuchisake and his freed GM, who were standing only a meter or so away from him, also armed. Glace only had a collapsible steel baton, since he'd not been planning this detour, but it was better than nothing.

Deadpool, he realised. Deadpool didn't have to abide by the conditions that prevented the prank war from spilling outside the established boundaries. Like not involving the Rain Division.

This was Deadpool's fault, Squalo reminded himself as the beast came burbling up with eyes of Flame. It kinda looked like a dragon in that it was vaguely dragon-shaped, if a three-year old had made it out of too-wet mud and a rainbow had vomited colour all over it.

Slaying a beast from Wonderland was not how Squalo imagined his day would go, even with Deadpool around. He would have to get the Mist back for this.

"Any advice?" Squalo asked as the Jabberwock roared; it sounded something like a duck growling.

"It's faster that it looks, the tail is to be avoided at all costs and it breathes glitter-flames that have a range of at least six meters before they lose enough cohesion and force to not send whoever is hit upstairs instantly." Kuchisake explained. "Also all analogies are very Douglas Adams since other writers make less amusing analogies."

"So we're distraction and bait then?" Glace asked, creating a mirror-like shield from Flames. The shield was however nowhere near as fragile as a mirror, since defending oneself with a sheet of glass was extremely unwise no matter how aesthetically satisfying.

"Yes, don't die." She confirmed flatly.

Then they dodged the glittering bomb of fire that came towards them like a giant water bomb that was pitched at high speed but on fire and left trails of glitter in the air. Rolling out of the way of the glitter, Squalo then had to leap out of the way of the tail.

"Kuchisake, keep that damn tail still! I'm going to chop this into bite-sized pieces!"

* * *

Despite Squalo saying that it took them a while to achieve it; it was in retrospect a fairly ambitious statement. Even with Kuchisake's Conjured help holding the tail still and Glace on defence being the shield to Squalo's sword, it just wasn't possible to put a dent in the beast. First though the tail had to go, because that was far more dangerous than everything else except the glitter-breath.

Trying to get rid of the tail from on foot didn't work; the Jabberwock was just too quick and twisted in circles like the water in a toilet did when flushed. It even made that distinctive flushing sound as it vanished and reappeared somewhere else in the room. Obviously they had to be faster than that and that meant not relying on their own two feet. Squalo would have preferred to never have to ride on the back of one of Kuchisake's Conjured monstrosities ever, even if he had to now manage it somehow. He was a swordsman not a cavalryman and Kuchisake's abominations were not remotely horse-like.

It took a few more attempts to get rid of the tail, but once it was properly severed it opened up the way for Squalo to slay the Jabberwock without much trouble. The footing on the Jabberwock's back was precarious because its skin was exactly like too-slick mud, squishing and making obscene sucking sounds with every step. Once balanced across the thing's shoulders –thankfully it couldn't turn its head far enough around to breathe glitter-bombs down its back or else he'd be done for– Squalo just cut off the vaguely dragon-shaped thing's head and the body exploded into glitter, little globes of light that quickly disappeared and the lingering scent of donuts. The really good donuts made fresh, not the cheap ones that are kinda yucky but still good because they were still donuts, even if they were beyond the best-buy date.

The Douglas Adams Analogies Rule was clearly still in effect.

Deadpool's work, definitely.

Then Squalo noticed that the portal leading upstairs had winked out of existence with the Jabberwock's death and been replaced by a regular door; they were going to have to make their own way back up.

Kuchisake's vehement swearing as she cursed Deadpool's name was however extremely creative.

* * *

Fuseau paused a few rooms away from the Sleeping Beauty Room to survey his troops. They did not look very promising; it was coming up on the middle of the afternoon and at least half of them hadn't eaten since last night.

He didn't have much experience working alongside the Problems, as they tended not to be the sort of people who worked well on a mission alongside Wanhope. He'd learned more about most of them today than he'd ever known before.

There was Korat, a green-eyed Storm who fought with a cavalry sabre and was on Raas' Squad, making him technically an ex-Problem. He had apparently been assigned to Sarja for some kind of anxiety issue, which he was now either over or had got much better at processing without it being obvious to others. He also tended to snigger while fighting, which was more of a quirk than a problem and something that probably endeared him to his Squad Leader; Raas was a giggler.

There was also Mort, who was a current Problem and had been dumped on Sarja by Ottabio a bit after New Year for 'disruptive behaviour'. Which had at the time been vaguely gossip-worthy, since Ottabio was short enough on sycophants that him letting a potential one get away was interesting. However it turned out Ottabio's reasoning had been purely practical: Mort was a talker. Not a chatty social talker like Spiderman, thank-you God, but a person who talked to themselves as part of their thinking process. Constantly, exhaustively and in circles, which was irritating and very distracting for the people around him. It also genuinely _was_ a Problem for a Varia assassin; constant mumbling was not exactly discreet. Fuseau could tune the pale, scarred redhead out, but recognised that most people probably couldn't. There was something about the near-constant nattering that seemed to catch the ear and force you to pay attention…

The other current Problem was Micia, who had been Named right before Quiet Week and had immediately been assigned to Problem Squad because _anyone_ who could reduce the usually affable Cordial to such heights of non-verbal fury that the Sun was prepared to chase them around the entire Mansion at top speed for over two hours was _definitely_ a person in need of having their behaviour curbed by Sarja's special flavour of educational therapy. The newbie Cloud had been named for her speed and acrobatic feats; she had darted and bounced down the main staircase like a cat on a hot tin roof, dodging Cordial's flung Flames with almost artless precision.

There was clearly something about Clouds that made them naturally Problematic; about a third of those Clouds who had joined the Varia after Sarja made Squad Leader had been assigned to Problem Squad at some point or other.

Fuseau's fourth Problem was another ex-Problem: Magpie, who had been assigned to Oversight's Team Argo as of Quiet Week. He was a very recent ex-Problem as a result, so probably didn't quite consider himself to have fully left his former Squad behind just yet. Magpie's issues were obvious: he was dramatic and rather theatrical, which was not really a good trait for a Varia Quality assassin to have because they were supposed to murder people in untraceable ways, _not_ be showy and visible. Officers had to be showy because they were the public face of the Varia along with the Boss, but nobody else was; flamboyant drama was for hitmen, messy corpses as a political message was for assassins. The underlying issues manifesting as excessive drama were not clear, but as Magpie was a former rather than a current Problem Sarja had clearly resolved them to his satisfaction.

Fuseau also had at his disposal Trol, the only other non-Problem still in the Squad, and Zeer, another former Problem, but intended to keep both in reserve for a potential sneak attack rather than on the front lines of the attack on Gwasgedd. Oversight had retired from the field after getting munched by the Jabberwock, citing sleep deprivation and a budding migraine and had dragged Zephyr off along with Tetro and Arcigno. The twenty-year-old Storm was not a Problem at all, but he was friendly with his Division Squad Leader and had run himself ragged keeping Tetro and Arcigno pointed in the right direction; the two Lightnings had been all out of mental energy after their Jabberwock-related 'deaths' and had allowed themselves to be towed off towards food.

The Mist did not actually have much of a plan; there were Rules in place in the room where Sarja was sleeping, Rules tied up in clauses and conditions so that different ones would activate depending on who did what and why. Because the Rules hadn't been active when they walked in and got shoved down to the Jabberwock Fuseau hadn't been able to get a proper handle on them, but he was almost certain that Sarja's room had been designed by Maínomai, so would follow 'fairytale' Rules. Gwasgedd in her swishy black dress and faintly grey-tinged skin was however a Disney-inspired addition so would be following Deadpool Rules or possibly no Rules at all.

Finding out was going to be a learning experience.

* * *

"Are we really going to fight Gwasgedd in an enclosed, heavily Altered space with our kidnapped Squad Leader lying unconscious within the attack radius?" Micia asked, glaring at Fuseau sceptically from well out of arms' reach.

The almost skeletally thin Mist stared steadily at the newly Named Cloud, who stubbornly refused to flinch. "Ya believe we 'ave an alternative, kitten?" Fuseau drawled sardonically.

"We could try bribery; I mean it is Gwasgedd and she's kinda lazy; what might she like? I don't mind tithing in chocolate for a month if it gets us out of here quicker," Mort chattered absently. "I'm mostly worried about how we're supposed to wake Leader up: there are some creepy, creepy versions of the Sleeping Beauty story out there. The room looked kinda Perrault but it could just as easily be Basile and my _God_ that story is sick. So much ingrained patriarchal-bullshit I really want to puke but this isn't the time or the place; let's just say that kissing doesn't work and leave it there, okay? Not that I particularly want to kiss my Squad Leader anyway and I know for a fact Micia has a flaming grudge rather than a crush so she's out too; Korat do you have a crush of Sarja?"

"None of the Problems have a crush; Sarja's too much of an ass to us for one to stick," Micia said dismissively. "But–"

"Don't." Magpie interrupted firmly. Micia glared at him ferociously but snapped her mouth shut.

"But what, kitten?" Fuseau asked, looming ever so slightly with an unsettling half-smile on his face.

Micia stared very pointedly at the ceiling. "Sarja says that going around telling people what is blatantly obvious to me is a violation of privacy and liable to get me killed," she recited in a grumpy sing-song. "So I'm not to do it because that's a Stupid way to die."

"But it might be relevant ta tha mission," Fuseau said sweetly. "Spit it out, darlin'."

Micia hesitated, very torn, but shook her head. "It would only work if we could get Gwasgedd on our side somehow," she grumbled, fiddling with the knotted ends of her bandanna.

"So tha committee favours bribery," Fuseau drawled, shrugging. "Well, won't hurt ta start there; we can always fight later and it'll give me a bit a time ta have a second look at tha Rules. Problems current and former other than Zeer, yer on negotiatin' duty; have fun. Trol, Zeer, with me." Trol stepped over to stand beside the Mist, who hadn't moved from his spot. "Well, what're ya'll waitin' for?"

Micia ground her teeth, adjusted her sunglasses, grabbed Mort by the sleeve and dragged him into the next room, Magpie ambling along beside the still-mumbling redhead and Korat bouncing nervously at the rear, fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword.

* * *

For the record, Fuseau had not actually thought the Problems' negotiation with Gwasgedd would go like this. He wasn't entirely sure _what_ he'd been expecting –pranking people of her choice? Luxury items? – but it definitely had _not_ been _this_. He would never have ever let them take point if he'd known this was the plan; he did actually have survival instincts and there was a serious possibility Gwasgedd would squish all the Problems flat then take out her lingering embarrassment on him.

So far they had reached the squishing part of the program: Korat was face down flat on the floor and Mort was sprawled across the ceiling like the world's most alarmed art installation and Magpie was braced with his back against the wall with his hands splayed out in front of him like a mime artist, breathing heavily as he kept Gwasgedd's attack at bay.

Micia was plastered against Magpie's chest, leaning back into her fellow Problem as far as she could away from the clash of Flames inches from her nose and talking very quickly in a likely-doomed attempt to salvage the situation.

Fuseau was not putting good odds on her succeeding and was grateful to be standing outside the room; if it came to it he could run away. He wasn't proud and maybe if Gwasgedd chased him it would give Zeer and Trol a chance to carry out a rescue.

"–really sorry Mort said that, it was rude and tactless but he's not _wrong_ and you know it!" Micia babbled. "Sarja hasn't noticed because he's so problem-focused and you don't _have_ any and he really _does_ admire you for that, honest! He's just not managed to get past the 'oh I really admire that person and enjoy their company' step and on to the 'I should really spend more time getting to know them' one! Mostly 'cause of us getting in the way, sorry about that, but I'm _sure_ that if you let us set up a dinner date and deliver him to you on time he'll really get into it and suggest another one!"

The Problems were trying to set Gwasgedd up on a _date_ with their unconscious Squad Leader. You really could not make this shit up. Gwasgedd looked furious and offended, but that could just as easily be embarrassment; Fuseau was trying not to think about that. Upsetting the Varia Ladies was extremely unwise even when you were married to one.

"You should see the way he looks at you; how he's not noticed yet I have no idea," Micia added on, her voice trailing off into a grumble.

Gwasgedd swayed back slightly; Mort dropped off the ceiling and gently collapsed on top of Korat, who gasped and shoved the taller man off him. Magpie's arms stopped trembling and he slowly let them drop a little, not taking his eyes off the senior Rain. Micia took a cautious step forwards, rolling her shoulders as she moved out of Magpie's personal space.

"Is that a yes?" The female Cloud inquired cautiously.

"You lot are paying, it has to be somewhere with really good food well outside normal Varia territory and no emergency interruptions before four in the morning," Gwasgedd said firmly, crossing her arms and glaring at Micia.

"There's a nice Jazz place in Alcamo," Mort said from where he was still lying on the floor. "Local cooking, good music and the wine's completely amazing; run by somebody vaguely affiliated with the Cavallone I think but Housekeeping buy some of the same wines and aren't serving them so I'm guessing they're labels that Boss likes which says a lot for their quality. It's mostly civvies eating there but you get the occasional Mafioso so the owners aren't snooty about dress-code like some and they do special dinners if you ask in advance. There's semi-private alcoves off the main dining area with a good view of the exits and the stage, even; I went there as security for an inter-Family lunch meeting last year and–"

"Stop talking," Korat said a little frantically; Mort's mouth snapped shut and he thoughtfully shoved his hand over his face.

Gwasgedd nodded, face sliding back into her usual expression of bland indifference. "Fine; arrange it before September."

Korat and Mort picked themselves off the floor as Micia nodded her own agreement. "We will, promise; now we've just got to wake Sarja up…"

"I still don't think kissing will work," Mort muttered, getting to his feet, "Maínomai isn't really a kissing person like that; we'd be better off checking his fingers and other bits of exposed skin for small foreign bodies. The original stories had flax splinters but that's no guarantee of anything."

"We'll keep kissing in reserve then," Korat muttered, approaching the bed cautiously and leaning in to eye up his Squad Leader's face. "I'm not even going to _try_ Flames; there's just so much Mist-work layered all over the place I might collapse something."

"Fuseau, come take a look?" Magpie asked, looking out the door at the Mist and drawing Gwasgedd's attention to the fact that there had been _witnesses_ to her little meltdown. The dramatic Rain had definitely done that on purpose to get back at him for not helping; Fuseau was going to remember this.

The pink-haired Rain in the unusually gothic dress however did not more than glance at him before turning her back and wandering over to stand next to Korat and crouch a little so as to take a closer look at Sarja's hands.

"Maínomai didn't warn anybody against getting too close," she said, "but then again he may not have expected us to get involved; me being up here was Deadpool's idea."

"D'ya think he added anything?" Fuseau asked, deciding it was probably safe for him to take a closer look. Zeer and Trol wandered in after him, but didn't try to get too close to the bed.

"No; this was Maínomai's masterpiece. Deadpool did the Jabberwock and set up a lot of the intermediate rooms," Gwasgedd replied calmly.

"Hm." Fuseau tried to work out the layering covering Sarja. A lot of it was focused on keeping the unconscious Storm in full health: slowing his metabolism so he wouldn't get hungry or piss himself, a clever little Alteration to prevent circulation problems, sores or cramps from developing, several more daisy-chained Alterations that would rouse the Storm in case of fire, flood or other severe physical peril and even one to keep his body temperature steady so he wouldn't sweat too much. The sheer volume of Clauses and Rules limiting how he could be woken up was however rather daunting.

"Mort's almost right; there's nothin' tha' says the person wakin' Sarja up has ta be in love with him," Fuseau decided eventually. "But it does require kissin', probably because he didn't want ta go tha horror route in this particular fairy tale." Fuseau had read the Gianbattista Basile story 'Sun, Moon and Talia' to see if it was child-friendly and had firmly decided against _ever_ reading it to Lonán; impressionable children should _not_ be read stories romanticising rape. "In fact, Maínomai's been kinda sneaky: yer need ta be 'pure of heart' ta wake Sarja."

"So non-romantic attachment," Micia deduced. "That's me out at least; I barely know him and I can't stand him."

"I don't know? I mean I kind of appreciate he effort he's going to and if he dropped dead tomorrow I'd be sad but I wouldn't be _devastated_ ; he's a good Squad Leader so I'd miss him in the field but I don't really know him personally," Mort nattered. "Zeer, you've known him for longer, how do you feel about kissing him?"

Zeer made an unhappy sound in his throat but gamely shuffled closer to the bed, bent over and chastely pecked the Storm Squad Leader on the lips. Nothing happened.

"Okay, interesting," Micia said thoughtfully. "Zeer _does_ care, but it clearly isn't the right _kind_ of caring to break the spell." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Pure of heart… technically _all_ of us Problems have an agenda in waking our Squad Leader; we want him back to lead us and so we'll feel better. That not exactly 'pure' so far as motivations go. Mort, have a go anyway."

Mort obligingly leaned over the bed and kissed Sarja. Again, nothing.

As one, the Problems turned to look at Fuseau.

"No," the Mist said reflexively, stepping back and running into Gwasgedd who had moved around behind him.

"For me, Fuseau," she said sweetly, pushing him forwards the bed. "You're friends with Sarja, aren't you?"

Fuseau resolved then and there that Maínomai was going to get some personalised payback for his part in putting him in this position.

Especially since him kissing Sarja actually _worked_.

* * *

Somehow, by a mad miracle of timing, the Slayers of the Jabberwock appeared back in the entrance as the last of Fuseau's rescue team and Sarja with his Problems arrived from another direction. Only to be met by Deadpool, which Glace figured could only end badly since Kuchisake was at the very end of her rope.

"Greetings, Fairy-tale heroes!" The Marvel Squad founder said breezily. "I see you've all had great fun!"

Kuchisake was even more terrifying than usual when she was like that. Because she wasn't playing around or focused on some nebulous plot she was trying to set up. Instead she was very focused on her goals, in a cheerfully intense and Sunny manner with no thought spared to others' delicate sensibilities. Her meteoric rise to Mist General Manager and then Mist Squad and Mist Squad Leader happened within the first three years of her joining; she had made Squad Leader in less than six months, despite it happening in the mission lull after Boss was put in time-out. And that was with her being considerate of others, in the way that Mists were by tailoring specifics and avoiding details.

 _Wasn't the Jabberwock neat? Maínomai did the Sleeping Beauty setup but the Terror of Wonderland was all me! I'm awesome! The after-smell was my favourite part!_

Glace, having actually joined the Varia before Kuchisake, could only imagine what Deadpool dying might look like. It would definitely happen messily, although how exactly was still up for debate as Deadpool extolled the virtues of donuts in his yellow boxes.

Ah, that's how, Glace realized as Kuchisake stole a sabre off of one of Sarja's Problems and gave Deadpool a Glasgow smile that went right through the back of his neck, sending blood splattering messily everywhere.

"Nice form." Squalo commented dryly as blood spurted and spread for the few moments until Deadpool fixed himself and started scolding Kuchisake for destroying his mask. Which she responded to by slashing him in half diagonally, from above his hip across into his other thigh.

"I think she cut through bone there." Glace said conversationally as Deadpool crumpled onto the floor.

"That is not the way you use a sabre." Squalo muttered as Kuchisake, decorated in heavy blood spatter from head to thigh, thrust the blade down into Deadpool's guts and twisted several times.

Glace tried not to listen in as Kuchisake returned the sabre and propositioned the Storm she had borrowed it from. Said Storm –what was his name again? – managed to deflect her; very neatly and effectively in fact, which was harder than it sounded. It didn't deter Kuchisake at all though, as she instantly said she'd:

"–go seduce a sexy Spaniard instead!"

Glace had a pretty good idea who she meant there. Kuchisake then happily skipped out of the tower as Deadpool recovered, her mood restored. Deadpool was flailing and running his mouth about not feeling the love; he'd be fine.

"Who's the unlucky fellow?" Squalo asked, meaning who Kuchisake was going to seduce.

"Télos. Cloud; specializes in tumours; plays piano. They've had an off and on relationship for at least two years. Mostly scratching an itch." Glace ignored Deadpool's little yellow boxes, which were swooning over how sexy Kuchisake looked in red. Over to the side the Storm was trying to wipe transferred bloody smears off his jacket and face with a handkerchief Conjured by Fuseau.

"Isn't Télos the one that nailed one of Ottabio's underlings to a wall a few years back?" The Captain asked.

"Non-lethally, as vital organs were missed," Glace said mildly. "Though it still crippled Moose into lengthy medical leave and an early retirement since how the nails were placed separated muscles. That tends to happen when construction nails become the size of railroad spikes."

"Lovely." His boss commented dryly. "Whatever happened to crucifixion?"

"I suspect it went out of fashion, like burning people at the stake. I've been informed that retro is making a comeback though."

There was no further response from the Rain Officer other than silence, but Squalo started heading towards the outside door and Glace followed. They still had work to do and Glace suspected that they'd soon be fielding requests to keep the tower as it was for training exercises.

He was going to reply with a firm 'no' to any requests for another Jabberwock though.

* * *

The combination of the incredible effort involved in clearing the Tower and the musical chaos Deadpool had plunged the besiegers' secondary offensive into meant the rest of the evening was rather quiet. Bel had retired hastily from the scene as soon as he was no longer being forced to sing 'The Ballad of Sweeny Todd' and rumour had it he had come out in a rash as a result of having to actually speak English; Oversight had vanished into Rain Division to ride out his chronic femininity somewhere quiet and relatively safe; and Kuchisake had abducted Télos and dragged him off to her rooms, not that the quiet Cloud had apparently protested much. Sekti was not a leader, so he was waiting on the Storm Officer. Without charismatic leadership the besiegers splintered along Squad lines; Fuseau and a few others were plotting against Maínomai, Sarja had been swamped by all Problems current and former who were telling him about everything he'd missed and several more Squads were co-ordinating with Wanhope to explore the rest of the Tower in order to get as full a picture of its interior and structure as possible.

There had also been a lot of defections in the wake of the musical mayhem, so the camp was a lot quieter than it had been earlier in the week; Sekti suspected that the mayhem would be far more fragmented now, with various individuals pursuing their own ideas rather than hauling together under his officer's leadership. It would be interesting to see how things unfolded over the coming week, especially since the Rain Officer had apparently been somehow dragged into the mess by Deadpool. Rain Division might actually decide to take a stand and participate properly in order to avenge the slight, which might get messy; Rain-humour was a bit nerve-wracking for most people.

Still, Sekti would have plenty of story material for the upcoming year. He was already putting together several amusing and educational anecdotes in his head concerning the previous weeks' achievements.

* * *

Translations 

Cogo = cook, as in person who prepares food (Venetian)

Stralung = misspelling of 'Strahlung', meaning radiation or irradiation (German)

Alizeti = sunflower (Swahili)

Chacal = jackal (Spanish)

Vyöry = landslide, avalanche (Finnish)

Tetro = bleak, dismal (Italian)

Arcigno = forbidding, grim (Italian)

Neprírodan = unnatural, abnormal (Serbo-Croatian)

Korat = Thai cat breed, a green-eyed blue-grey shorthair

Mort = death (French); also a Pratchett pun

Micia = female cat (colloquial), kitty (Italian)

Zeer = pain, grief (Dutch)

Télos = result, product, end; boundary, initiation, death; supreme power, duty, fulfilment (Greek)

All other Varia names have been mentioned previously or are in English.

Songs

We're Following the Leader from Peter Pan

The World's Greatest Criminal Mind from The Great Mouse Detective (French)

I Yam What I Yam from Popeye

Be Prepared from The Lion King (German)

It's a B-Movie from The Brave Little Toaster

Friend Like Me from Aladdin (Italian)

You're Only Second Rate from The Return of Jafar (Portuguese)

Thriller by Michel Jackson

The Ballad of Sweeny Todd by Stephen Sondheim

Words taken from the English versions of the songs, but the other language versions can be found on you-tube if people want to listen!


	10. A Mafia Murder Mystery

This starts right after chapter 113 of Black Sky.

* * *

 **A Mafia Murder Mystery**

 _Drin-drin-dri-dri-driiing!_

His phone was ringing. Why was his phone ringing? It wasn't morning yet! Maínomai flailed, almost knocking the phone off his nightstand before he managed to grab hold of it and answer.

" _Haló, Maínomai speaking_ ," he mumbled in Romanian; he hadn't recognised the number that had come up but since the non-Varia people he'd given his number to could be counted on one hand, there were very few people it could be.

" _This is the prince of Denmark,_ " said a strained female voice in Classical Greek. " _We are bereft; please collect the little javelins from the dragon-slayer beside the home of the warrior of heaven in the heart of the lion and hide them from our sight._ "

Maínomai instantly went into mission-mode; Hamlet needed him to hide the children and one of the Vongola had died; probably Don Nono or Federico. " _I'll be there_ ," he said shortly, throwing off his covers and setting up a quick Enchantment so he could see in the dark. There was a click and then the phone went dead; Hamlet had hung up on him. Maínomai dropped the phone so he could pull on his boots, realised he should probably put on something other than his pyjamas –no time for that Serena was in danger– Altered his pyjamas into a replica of his current Varia uniform, grabbed the go-bag from under his bed –set up for last-minute missions– threw on his coat and Altered the flow of time and space around himself so he could get out of the building as fast as possible.

He knew exactly where he was going –the church of Michael the Archangel in Corleone– and while teleportation was not a trick he used at all in the normal run of things, that didn't mean he didn't know how. Well, the way _he_ did it was probably a bit different to the way those who specialised in transportation did it, but his way still _worked_ so long as he knew where he was going and could visualise it.

Maínomai knew where he was on a map, knew where his destination was, could visualise the distance and direction and the specifics of where he wanted to arrive…

The horizon wasn't visible yet and the street-lights weren't lit, suggesting it was before five o'clock in the morning. It was also pretty cold and a bit damp; Maínomai quickly fastened his coat and fished his scarf out of one of his pockets, wrapping it around his neck and the lower half of his face. He could only see his surroundings due to his Enchanted vision, which told him he was exactly where he had intended to be. There were a few cars parked by the sides of the road, but it was the grubby van parked slightly around the corner, right below the old church. Somebody had used their finger to draw in the dirt coating it, sketching two upward-pointing arrows… or spears.

 _Lanza_ – _Spanish for spear_ – _coded message_ – _contact_ – _caution_ – _check for surveillance or traps_ – _still don't know what's going on…_

The van's engine was cold, its cab was dark and it was riding high enough to be empty, but none of that meant anything when Mists got involved; making a cargo near-weightless was a very simple Enchantment. He was there to meet a 'dragon-slayer' –that was the only part of Hamlet's instructions that he hadn't been able to instantly decode– but going by the rest of the conversation it was probably a reference to someone's name. A Giorgio probably, named after Saint George.

Maínomai knocked on the back door of the van, which opened a crack to reveal a tall and skinny brunette with very low-level Latent Cloud Flames and a considerable resemblance to Fuseau around the hands and eye-sockets. Fuseau's hands were very spider-like and this teen shared that trait.

" _Madman_?" The teenager asked hoarsely in Polish. He had the look of somebody kicked out of bed after three hours sleep and running entirely on adrenaline.

" _Dragonslayer_ ," Maínomai reciprocated evenly in the same tongue. " _The spears_?"

The teenager opened the door further and silently waved the assassin inside. Maínomai entered the van and allowed the door to be closed behind him, sealing the space within once more.

The inside of the van was nothing like the outside; it was quite blatantly a Territory. More interesting was that the Territory looked like somebody had mashed together Amadeo and Serena's bedrooms into a space the size of Erica's sitting room in the Vongola Mansion: there were the respective bookshelves bracketed by differently coloured wallpaper, there the toy boxes –with more toys scattered across the floor– and even Amadeo's bed and Serena's cot, both complete with sleeping occupants. The patchwork carpet was actually faintly amusing.

"My mother is one of Housekeeping's Territory Masters," the teenager mumbled in Italian, offering Maínomai a large holdall. "Just take whatever and she'll put the rest back."

 _Resembles Fuseau_ – _mother is a Territory Master_ – _related to fellow assassin? Probable_ – _Fuseau is Vongola-affiliated_ – _highly capable and completely trusted_ – _Housekeeping's Territory Masters_ _ **are**_ _the security system and everything else is just window dressing_ – _drawing attention away from the Mists_ – _what went wrong that one of the Vongola is dead? Not relevant_ – _children the priority_ – _provision requirements…_

Maínomai nodded, his mind whirling with all the things he was going to need in order to care for his daughter and her brother for an indefinite length of time. Warm clothing for both, nappies for Serena, books and toys to keep them entertained, Amadeo's school-books so his education wouldn't suffer, medical records for both children in case of accidents…

First things first; Maínomai Altered the holdall to be five times larger on the inside and to weigh one-fifteenth of what it should. He was going to have to carry both children as well as the luggage, so everything had to be as light as possible. Then he began packing: Serena's nappy bag and the other things necessary for changing her and keeping her clean, all her clothes –she didn't have that many really as she was growing so having more than was strictly necessary was a waste– the books she liked him to read to her –the entire shelf of them– and her soft toys, all except the one she was cuddling. He also left out the baby snowsuit; Serena would need to be wearing that when they left.

Then he started on Amadeo's belongings, which required him to be more discerning. Winter clothing only, with a few lighter things for indoors, slippers, a range of shoes –the ones the five-year-old liked wearing best– the two large, lidded boxes full of Lego, a selection of newer books and a handful of old favourites, the boy's school-bag and drawing materials, the Game Boy Colour and all the cartridges Maínomai could find –Amadeo always left them lying around– and the bug-out bag containing copies of medical records and alternative identity documents that Erica kept hidden in a false compartment in the base of her son's wardrobe. He also pocketed the gun she kept there; it might come in handy.

 _Details of situation still unknown_ – _assassination_ – _enemy_ _attack_ – _coup attempt by allied Family_ – _accident_ – _plans minimal and flexible_ – _await more data_ – _security is key_ –

Mainomai then carefully dressed his sleeping daughter in her snowsuit and Conjured up a climbing harness to strap her to his chest with; they wouldn't be travelling for very long but she needed to be secure. He put on the harness under his coat, fastened his daughter into it then did up his coat over the top, Altering the coat lining so it lay flat and the baby was invisible, tucking the stuffed rabbit she'd been cuddling in beside her. Then he went over to Amadeo, put some thick socks on the boy's feet and gently dressed him in his coat directly over his pyjamas. The five-year-old mumbled but went along with things; Maínomai knew he was still fast asleep and probably wouldn't wake up unless something actually exploded.

Erica's son nominally dressed, Maínomai retrieved Amadeo's holdout knife from where it was hidden between the headboard and the mattress, slipped it in the boy's coat pocket, easily shouldered both his bags then picked up the five-year-old and balanced him on his hip. Another quick Alteration so Amadeo wouldn't feel the cold; now he was good to go.

"Safe journey," the teenage Cloud said tiredly, opening the van door pasted incongruously between two closed windows so that Maínomai could leave the Territory.

 _Would leaving through one of the other doors enable me to access the Iron Fort? Likely_ – _Territory_ _Mastery allows for the Territory to be accessed from physically distant locations_ – _Mental manipulation of space_ – _need to get Serena and Amadeo to safety_ – _travel is vulnerable_ – _move directly to destination_ –

Maínomai nodded as he stepped back outside, already concentrating on his desired destination: the rooftop garden of his and Pýř's house. It was remote but not too remote, fully stocked with edibles including food suitable for growing children and he could very easily ramp up the security to the point that even people who knew where it was wouldn't be able to find it unless he wanted them to.

* * *

When the Emergency Muster rang loud and obnoxious in his ears Pýř buried his face in his pillow and swore horribly for a full twenty seconds before rolling out of bed and throwing on his uniform. None of the Varia suites were fully soundproof –that would be dangerous– so Multiplying his hearing enabled him to pick up the sounds of swearing, rushing feet and people tripping over things in the dark all around him. However the room next door was oddly quiet; had Maínomai slept through the alarm? His partner _did_ sleep pretty deeply but he had implanted mental triggers so he'd respond promptly to the few emergency alarms the Varia had.

It was _still_ quiet over there after Pýř had finished dressing and laced up his boots, so the Cloud pocketed his phone –which told him it was a quarter to five in the morning, not that it helped his mood any– and headed out into the corridor. Being a visibly dishevelled and irritated Cloud meant that the people running down the hall towards the stair avoided _him_ rather than expecting him to dodge _them_ , which was as it should be. Slipping into his partner's room, Pýř switched the light on just as his senses finally elaborated on the vague feeling of things not being quite right he'd been experiencing since waking up.

Maínomai was not in his room. His phone was lying on the floor and his boots were missing, but his uniform was still hung over the back of the chair on the other side of the unmade bed by the closed bathroom door. Pýř quickly glanced around the room and yes, his partner's mission coat was missing too. Checking the wardrobe did not reveal any clothes missing and all the Mist's knitting was still in its usual places… where the hell was Maínomai and where the _hell_ did he go in just pyjamas, boots and coat?!

Pýř closed his eyes and carefully breathed through the burning _fury_ of _his_ Territory being interfered with. The only person he knew that could have done this was Wanhope, but the depressed Mist didn't actually _care_ enough to pull this kind of thing. Yes, Wanhope did have an inexplicable attachment to Erica and had terrified the Vongola staff once or twice by showing up in the Vongola gardens while Amadeo and Serena were playing outside under his or Maínomai's watchful eye, but that was just more evidence that the stocky mute probably _wasn't_ responsible for this. Striding closer to the bed, Pýř pressed a hand to the sheets.

Cold; his partner had been gone for a while. Definitely half an hour but probably longer. Pýř took in another slow breath through his nose and reminded himself that burning his partner's bed to ash wouldn't change anything and just make Maínomai cross with him when he got back; Pýř _would_ get his partner back even if it meant burning half of Sicily to _ash_.

Calm. Maínomai would pout if he burned down half the island and it wouldn't make finding his partner any easier. The question was, where had his partner gone and why?

His partner's phone was on the floor, not the bedside table. Had somebody called him?

Pýř bent down to pick up the phone and in doing so noticed that his partner's go-bag was missing. Ah, so not _just_ wearing pyjamas, boots and coat then. That was less alarming; Maínomai would have a burner phone with him, although it would be off and he would have to wait for his partner to turn it on and call _him_. Still, Maínomai had five uniform changes, ten days' worth of other clothing, toiletries, weapons, a burner phone, an extensive first-aid kit, three separate sets of identity papers and the equivalent to about twenty thousand Deutsche Marks in a variety of currencies. His partner was _much_ better these days; he'd be fine for the time being. Pýř could go answer the muster and then try and hunt the idiot down later, to hit him over the head for leaving his phone behind.

Heading out and hurrying down the corridor, Pýř checked his partner's phone. There _had_ been a call, marked as being from an unknown number and happening at five to four in the morning; an hour ago. Maínomai really should have at _least_ texted him by now but hadn't; what the _hell_ was going on?

And would Pýř be allowed to _slaughter_ it?

* * *

Maínomai ran his fingers through his newly-dried hair and tied it back at the nape of his neck, out of the way of grasping toddler fingers. He'd managed to transfer the kids to beds at his house without waking them up –Serena in her cot and Amadeo in Erica's bed so both of them were on the same floor– and had then unpacked all their things, placing them around the rooms so as to make everything look and feel more familiar. He'd even slid Amadeo's holdout knife under the five-year-old's pillow, so he'd feel safer on waking up in a strange place.

Next he'd checked the kitchen, adjusted the heating timer so the house would be properly warm by the time the kids woke up, eaten breakfast, increased the security to the maximum possible and then gone and had a hot shower. Now he was dressed in a proper uniform and felt a bit more in control for the first time since getting woken up by his phone.

Speaking of, where _was_ his phone? Pockets… no; Altered pyjama-uniform-pockets… no; coat pockets… no. Go-bag… burner phone but no Varia phone; duffel bag… nope, not there either.

When had be last had it? He'd answered Hamlet, she'd hung up on him, he'd put his phone down to lace up his boots… had he ever picked it up again?

No, no he hadn't. That was embarrassing; hopefully Pýř wouldn't find out about that. In the meantime he did have a burner phone though, so he could text his partner on that before trying to work out who else –other than Pýř of course– he was going to involve in protecting his kids. Ghul and Vahn would be safe as they already knew about both Amadeo and Serena, but the entire Squad being on the 'out' board without a mission would look a bit suspect unless Hamlet could forge some paperwork for him to that effect. Or Maínomai could forge the paperwork; it wouldn't actually be very hard and he knew how it was supposed to look, so one of his identities paying him for a long mission somewhere a long way away wouldn't get noticed until auditing came around and Mammon noticed he hadn't got his cut beforehand.

Audits didn't happen till Quiet Week and it was only February; if whatever had gone wrong wasn't fixed by then, Mammon would have more important things to worry about than one missing mission payment.

Collecting some printer paper and ink from his study-slash-library, Maínomai quickly Altered the raw materials into a properly worded briefing for a confidential surveillance mission requested by the Lanza Famiglia –he was a Lanza so he could request missions on the Family's behalf– all signed off by the Captain, Raas and Pýř as appropriate. Falsifying official documents _was_ something the Varia _weren't_ supposed to do, but there were layers of subtlety to be considered there and the document wasn't _really_ false. Just the signatures and faint Flame-echoes of the people that had supposedly signed it were, along with the dates. He fully intended to pay the money after all, if only to ensure nobody got curious later.

Transporting the paperwork to join the stacks of other missions-in-progress in Raas's office was also pretty easy, because a GM's office _had_ to be accessible and quite a few Mists delivered paperwork this way. The only difference was which pile Maínomai was adding his hastily-assembled file to.

There, make-shift paper-trail complete; now he really should switch his phone on and text his partner, so that when Pýř woke up the Cloud wouldn't go on a rampage looking for him.

* * *

Kuchisake wasn't a person that most people wanted to wake up, mostly because she had Cursed people for doing so when she hadn't been able to sleep long enough for one reason or another. No one wants to be woken up a few hours after the end of a long movie marathon. That said, she wasn't always feeling petty enough to make those around her suffer her ill mood. Not unless they deserved it.

Which meant that she just stood off to one side and watched in silence as various Squads scrambled to assemble amidst the mess of people streaming out of the building and into the courtyard rather than expressing her displeasure at the early hour. Emergency Muster meant the Division-specific Squads would form and the rest of the Squad Leaders would assemble their own respective Squads. As most Division Squads were made up of Squad Leaders, their personal Squad went to the designated second-in-command. The few Division Squad members who weren't Squad Leaders, well their Squad would have to make do without them, possibly by grabbing a mook and seeing how they fit with the depleted group as a temporary substitution of specialties.

As she watched, Redcap of Grimm Squad was directing that Squad to a promising mook. That was when she noticed the distinctive blue-hair of Pýř coming towards her with a lack of pretty kōhai.

"Pýř, where's your partner?" Kuchisake snapped demandingly; usually she'd purr the question, but an emergency like this when they barely knew what they were assembling for when the Captain was already gone ahead get the lay of the land? This wasn't the place for head-games, vanity or fun. It was why her hair was still in a loose braid for sleeping in and frizzy with bed head.

In lieu of a proper answer, the Cloud clicked at a phone for a second then tossed it at her. This was Maínomai's? Looking at the contact information pulled up for her, she noted the unknown number and the time of the call. Which explained why Maínomai was elsewhere if he had been called stupidly early in the morning, because a little before four counted as morning instead of late at night. That didn't answer the question of where though...

Pýř wisely brought up his own phone next and showed a text, completely avoiding the necessity of speaking with people. Oh, he was not a happy Cloud, not at all. She quickly deciphered the phrase; a simple bit of code, more references than anything else but it wasn't like Pýř was the nicest or most conversant of people when he first woke up. And it looked like he really did wake up on the wrong side of bed for a good mood to be in the cards this morning. According to Pýř's phone, Maínomai had been called to help with the evacuation of the Vongola Mansion, so he was on guard duty until relived. Of the little spears, so watching his daughter and her half-brother because that was the only reason 'little' would be specified.

"Location?" She asked softly.

"Tesla's hunting lodge." The Cloud growled. Interesting choice but Pýř was still being cagey so she'd get better information from him once out of the mass of bustling Varia. Fussy Cloud that he was, going along with his statement would just mean a delay of twenty seconds or so in getting the facts straight. Plus it was possible that Maínomai was there; unlikely though, because their home was already fortified... and oh. That was why.

"Raas, hold, give me five minutes." She told the GM, snagging him by his uniform as he hurried past. "Relay that to Mist Squad." Raas nodded and she let go.

Kuchisake didn't call Pýř out on his lie as it was a way to protect his privacy and Territory, but she did wrap herself around the Cloud's arm, up for a quick trip to Tesla's old place. Even if she did enjoy the shivers of the crawling sensation that her version of teleporting usually included, this time she kept the dramatics to a minimum since even then she could tell that it was not something she should indulge herself right now when she knew more than just that specific method of transportation. If Pýř wasn't willing to give details in front of the rest of the Varia it meant the issue was both personal and private, so she had curled around his arm and used her Flame to transport the both of them there more mundanely.

"So home for you two?" She asked, as confirmation. She did know the place but she also knew her kōhai's tendency for thorough overkill in the name of security and privacy and getting called out at four in the morning could only make that tendency worse.

"Avoid the roof and yard. Maínomai's working on an information blackout."

So the security would be as high and as tight as the Alteration specialist could make it, especially since he didn't have to worry about the Varia housekeeping regulations concerning modifications to rooms like Altering space or how to access said room. Except that the Alterations would be all over the entire building; joy.

"Drop you off on the road?" She asked. He nodded; she took them through the Mist this time and once on the road let him shiver and burn off of the clinging wisps of Mist as he sprinted up to the house. She didn't _have_ to be nice and considerate after all.

As Kuchisake had a few minutes to kill before her subordinate arrived, she occupied herself by observing the Alterations that served as security. She didn't need to know much about computers or programming to realise that her cute kōhai had outdone himself. The security on Maínomai's room at the Varia Mansion was considered a little excessive even by Mist standards, the various bits of revenge he occasionally indulged in even more so because of how complicated the tangles they wound themselves into were but this... the most mild outer defence was one that erased the memory of the building's location and furthermore blocked people from even processing the sensory input to see the house. That defence would be repeated with variations every so often, because to Maínomai's mind just one 'shell' wasn't enough even if that 'shell' was less a 'shell' and more of an embroidered tapestry.

Maybe a quilt of tapestries was a better description, as who builds in an actual optical illusion –no Flame involved– into their defences like that? That was just nasty and unexpected, because it did initially look like an unintentional weak-spot in the defences based on the shimmer and patterns of the constructed defence. It was very impressive. The defences even covered underground, which told her that Maínomai considered any attempt to gain entrance that way should be rewarded with nothing less than a very nasty death. She counted thirteen little programs underground and since she knew that her kōhai could manage up to five hundred Alterations per program… that would be a very thorough death and the corpse probably wouldn't even be recognisably human anymore. There were likely more programs hidden within the structure of Mist defences above ground, but she wasn't keen on turning into a corpse herself so she didn't even touch them. They would likely not let her through and were probably all-but impenetrable.

Unless you were actually allowed in. Like Pýř was. Probably Erica was too. He'd probably set up the invitation protocols he insisted that Erica's suite have as well, so...

It had been about two minutes now since Pýř had gone in. Her kōhai was Pýř's Territory and had made the Cloud worry so she'd give them another minute before she called. The Emergency Muster going off was a rare event.

As Maínomai had helped with the evacuation of the Vongola Mansion and since been out of the loop, he was probably unaware of exactly who was dead. It was probably a Vongola; the last time this had happened was with Massimo's death. It was likely Federico though; an emergency call wouldn't have happened if Nono had passed on peacefully and it wasn't likely that anyone with sense would break through the security around the Don Vongola and then just kill him since he was clearly on the way to retirement, finally. It'd be something of a waste of money, time and effort for too little pay-off. Federico however was a known bad boy who sometimes snuck out all by his lonesome and that meant he'd be an easy target even if he wasn't easily found. In theory.

Still, evacuation the Vongola Mansion would be sensible in case Federico getting himself killed while going or returning from some love nest wasn't what had happened. Which only left the question of who had called Maínomai and how did they get his number if her kōhai didn't get theirs in return?

She brought up her watch to check the time and she had about a minute and a half left of those five minutes Raas was giving her, so she pulled her phone out of her uniform pocket and... that was when her kōhai ran up.

"Sorry Kuchisake. Hamlet called me to evacuate the kids and well, safest place I could think of on short notice. Nobody outside of those we trust has been here and I had to amend for the Squad to be allowed in at this level of security." He explained. So that axed the notion that the building had invitation based security. At least somewhat. Very paranoid, but it was his daughter being threatened and she did have Vongola blood.

"It wasn't a very long conversation, I assume?"

"I said 'hello' and then she said a few phrases, which amounted to 'someone's dead, go here, pick up the kids from this guy' and then she hung up." He smiled then, sheepish.

"How'd she get your number?"

"I hacked her phone with Flames, put myself in as an emergency contact. Took less than a second and she didn't even notice until later. Might have been too busy blushing at the time," he admitted, showing exactly why Hamlet might have been blushing. Her kōhai had a dangerous smile, even before it became sharp. "Emergency Muster... was it, no it _is_ probably Federico."

"There's no official confirmation yet, but it's been less than ten minutes since the emergency rang. Raas has stalled Mist Squad for five, but we're cutting close–" Kuchisake did not squeak when her kōhai hugged her and transported both of them to her office, as even though Maínomai's method was fast she did feel a bit of a squeeze. A squeak was not what she wanted to show to the pair of eyes floating in that jar. "Ah, this is going to reignite all those rumours."

"Hamlet sounded strained." Her pretty kōhai admitted, practically confirming that it was Federico. "As for the rumours," he merely shrugged, seemingly uncaring despite the fact he had essentially hidden away in the aftermath of Mantis' death and had since then managed not to notice the flirting or attention grabbing antics of a few women who had wanted to take advantage of the pretty Mist being a 'romantic'. It was only a little hilarious to see, both the failures and the obliviousness.

"I'm more annoyed that if it was Federico, then the CEDEF is doomed to have Iemitsu for at least three more years unless some hitman gets lucky, assuming there is a prospective Decimo left." Maínomai complained as they left her office, holding the door open for her and everything. It really was a shame that there was absolutely no chemistry between them.

"Ha! Five years is more likely, as it would require the support of the Famiglia to effect a change, but again that's assuming a suitable heir even exists and has a good base to start from. Could be as many as seven or ten and Don Vongola could die of old age before then," Kuchisake countered, as Information had all sorts of data on the CEDEF. It was her personal squad who had suffered Iemitsu for over a year, so she did keep up to date easily by visiting them when not researching or meddling; they felt invested in the CEDEF now and liked to keep themselves informed. The numbers of years she'd just mentioned hadn't been analyzed, but they were a good estimate. It had taken Federico about that long to earn most of the Famiglia's support after it was clear that Enrico was incapable due to coming down with an incurable case of death. The Vongola at least knew Federico as he and his brothers had been raised within the Vongola, but any new heir would likely be an outsider, so longer would be required before trust happened.

"Are Vahn and Ghul needed for anything?" Maínomai asked, which was a clear change of subject and probably proof that the kleptomaniac was planning something to keep the little Lanzas protected while he was out and about with Mist Squad; as if all the defence and his partner weren't enough. Still it wouldn't hurt to throw him a bone and small children did require supervision.

"Vahn's proficiency may be required later, but only once we have a lead." He nodded and moved to join the assembled Mist Squad, pulling out his phone as he did so. He was one of the last to arrive, but the information would get out that he'd helped with the evacuation earlier and been stuck until relieved even if she had to share it herself. It wasn't like Pýř's terrible mood on being woken up was any great secret and her kōhai losing an additional hour of sleep because of the evac... he might have to explain forgetting his phone but it wasn't like her pretty kōhai was an idiot. He'd come up with something, possibly security related.

* * *

Maínomai was not enjoying his morning. First there was the wake-up call, some brief panic and trying to stay awake while keeping the kids safe from any potential harm while not knowing what kind of harm was most likely to come calling, as he had no information to work on other than there _was_ an evacuation ordered and the sound of Hamlet's voice. Which had said bad things about whatever had happened.

He had had time to think about what was possible while taking a shower to wake himself up properly. Any of the nightmare scenarios with Iemitsu, an assassin getting Nono Vongola... which was why after a short shower he had looked for his phone and eventually turned on his burner phone and realised that he had taken longer somewhere than he thought he had; that wasn't uncommon when he was by himself. The first thing he had done was text Pýř about where he was at and why.

He had gotten a response seconds later which said serious things had happened because Pýř was something of an early riser by necessity as he needed time to get fit for civilised company… but not _this_ early.

'Varia moving. Don't know why.'

Less than two minutes later Pýř was inside which was impossible unless a Mist gave him a lift –Mab was immediately crossed off the list, as were Wanhope and Fuseau so that left–

"Ow." Maínomai complained as his friend smacked his forgotten phone against his head. Maínomai quickly grabbed it.

"Don't forget it again." Pýř told him, clearly worried behind all that Cloudy irritation. "Kuchisake's waiting outside. You've got a few minutes."

"I'll adjust the security to let Vahn and Ghul through. I've forged a mission in case we have to keep the kids safe for any significant length of time as a confidential surveillance mission. Remind me to pay it later."

That said, adjusting the admission protocols was an easy enough matter if a person knew how, so it took only the amount of time necessary to weave the change into his security. He wasn't going to lower it after all. Not until he had confirmation of exactly what happened and a reason to believe they would be safe back inside the Vongola Mansion.

He had then chatted with Kuchisake for all of a minute, mostly to see if she had any news, and then texted Vahn and Ghul to tell them where Pýř was. He then texted them again so they knew to call the Cloud later for directions as he and Mist Squad teleported over to the Vongola Mansion, carrying a few other people each to provide a proper strike force. He didn't complain about having to transport five other people with him, although it seemed he had made someone else squeak because of the squeeze that happened when he wasn't taking extra care to prevent that feeling. It wasn't like teleportation was _easy_ for him.

Confirmation had arrived soon after they reached the Vongola Mansion and he'd seen Hamlet speaking with Squalo and Mammon, who had left the Varia earlier so that there'd be orders ready for the rest of them when they showed up. Hamlet looked devastated and furious at the world and herself. The only question was where was Federico?

* * *

Less than two hours later they had the answer of where Federico was; the hour or so before the Varia had been called had been spent searching the Vongola Mansion for him. It took a bit longer after that to find a lead but someone somewhere figured out that Federico was actually _outside_ the Vongola Mansion when he was killed; there was an immediate mood-shift within the Varia then, as there was only _one_ reason the Varia could think of for Federico to be out by himself at night. Infuriatingly no normal tracking methods had worked; it was like Federico's body had evaporated or been so profoundly changed he didn't register as 'Federico Vongola' anymore. Then a car was turned up missing and that was a solid lead. Finding the car took a little more time, and that was where they found the bones.

Federico was a steaming pile of bones, a few feet away from the car he had borrowed. And no, that wasn't an exaggeration. At least, that it was Federico was the assumption they were working on, as they couldn't tell with any degree of certainty at the moment who the bones had belonged to. There was no sign of whatever clothing the pile of bones had been wearing, no identification records or even a trace Flame residue, so it'd take time to do an exact match the hard way using health records. It'd take time to acquire the exact health records from wherever they were stashed too; a mere overview would say something like 'broken arm at age' whatever, which wouldn't have the x-ray picture. It might go faster to use dental because it wasn't like there was fingerprints left to go on. Not that the body being bones meant they wouldn't try to use DNA to prove its identity, but it might be impossible.

The steaming effect didn't bode well if someone was going to attempt to use DNA as an identifier. DNA in the bone marrow could last for a long time, but DNA was easy to denature. He knew the oils on human skin could ruin it once extracted because it was really fragile. DNA was all chemical bonding so it could be damaged with a change of pH or even a slight change in temperature. DNA in the bone marrow would have some protection due to the properties of bone but... if this was done by Flame then there was the chance that the Flame would target the DNA in cells intentionally. That would be a very neat trick, if that was what had happened. One that would take extreme levels of control and no small amount of power; it was probably still going at it, even after all the time that had passed between the phone call from Hamlet and now, or else the steaming would probably have stopped.

Bulldog and his assistants had been summoned and a few Mists ferried them over after some photographs were taken. It was protocol not to investigate further than what could be done with mere sensory observation, because there could be something that could be disturbed or contaminated, but no one really wanted to get that close to the freaky bones that were steaming anyway; bones were porous right? Otherwise the steam would have cracked them already. That said practice. Lots of it. Who had Federico been seeing –if he'd seen anyone at all– to fall foul somebody with this kind of skill? Or was this a lucky assassin? Because steaming bones were something that would be a signature style of kill, involving lots of practice to develop such a technique.

The DNA, various trash, Flame residue and more on the scene was left completely undisturbed because of how freaky the bones looked all piled up like that... and it was best to leave this kind of investigation to professionals. However Mist Squad wasn't made up of incompetents and the entire scene looked unnaturally clean of Flame residue to their various eye-based Enchantments. A Storm might manage that but Maínomai wasn't aware of anyone that could do it quite this perfectly. Pýř had excellent control of his Storm Flames, especially for someone who was a Cloud-primary, and there were only a double handful of people in the Storm Division that were better than his friend. Pýř couldn't have done something like what they were looking at. He wasn't sure if there was anybody in Storm Division that could.

Maínomai just felt tired a few minutes after Bulldog arrived and started ordering his assistants to collect everything, yelling at them to take utmost care. He didn't like this and didn't like the fact that without Federico, Iemitsu would remain in the CEDEF as a danger to everyone associated with the Vongola; without Federico, Boss would remain on ice so Ottabio would remain a problem for at least several more years. The Cloud Officer would have to retire eventually but it really did not look like he was going to do so gracefully, considering he was already thirty-one and the oldest active assassin in the Varia. He didn't like that without Federico the Vongola wouldn't advance, that the Varia wouldn't be trusted to stand by the Vongola. He didn't like that Federico seemed to have forgotten all of his responsibilities and the people that depended on him in favour of probably meaningless sex.

Now Erica had lost all of her uncles, bar the one that was frozen in the basement. Xanxus being frozen might be alive within the ice, but he certainly wasn't capable of offering comfort to Erica or the rest of his family, much less the Family. The same went for Maria-Chiara, as all her brothers were dead or might as well be.

Federico's death was terribly disappointing for everyone considering how pointless and thoughtless his actions had been. It was a very Stupid death.

* * *

It was a wonderful thing not belonging to a field team, Erica felt, because field teams got called out in the middle of the night in emergencies. Secretaries did not; however secretaries did have to deal with all the paperwork that emergencies generated, especially emergencies that dragged on for days at a time.

Her uncle Federico was dead; the uncle who'd always bailed her out when she got in over her head and been one of her two favourite uncles. Xanxus was the other favourite, because while he had never bailed her out of a bad situation he had always been fully willing to provide her with the tools she needed to bail _herself_ out, up to and including things her other uncles, mother and grandfather would never have allowed, like plastic explosives.

That had been an odd week; it had been fun though, the most fun she'd ever had at thirteen, although _how_ her also-thirteen-years-old uncle had got his hands on plastic explosives and the knowledge of how you were supposed to shape the charges would forever remain a mystery.

Those drug dealers had never known what hit them. The warehouse exploding all around them had ended their plans of production and distribution in a timely and permanent manner.

Letting that fond memory slip away, Erica turned her attention back to the paperwork. If she'd ever wanted proof that Iemitsu really, seriously didn't have a clue who she was, well now she had it. She hadn't been offered compassionate leave upon arriving at work on the morning of the twenty-first of February; her oblivious boss had simply told her that Federico Vongola was dead and she would be managing things for him, since he would be in the field for the foreseeable future.

Had Erica not been a Rain, she would have had an emotional breakdown; but she _was_ a Rain and any Rain worth their pay could manage their own emotions, whether they were Active or not. Instead she'd gently compartmentalised the distraught niece and spent the day being the efficient and effective secretary the CEDEF needed in a time of crisis. She had spent the entire day in the office, sending one of the junior secretaries out to fetch a hot lunch shortly after one, finally heading home at eight o'clock at night.

Only once she was back at her apartment had she given in to the urge to cry, her misery and grief following her into sleep.

The rest of the week had been more of the same, punctuated only by a short text message from Antony to tell her that both her children would be remaining in Maínomai's care until the current state of emergency was brought to an end. Erica had a good idea of where her children were –there was only one place that was isolated yet accessible enough for hosting small children that Maínomai had exclusive access to and it was her friends' house across the valley– so she did not let herself worry about them. She would see them on Sunday, as usual.

It was actually Saturday evening when Erica next saw her children, but that was nothing to do with her changing her schedule and everything to do with Squalo Superbi being in her apartment when she got back from work at nine o'clock at night. He had at least cooked something hot while he was waiting, which he served her a plate of before joining her at the table with a mug of hot chocolate. He wasn't wearing his Varia uniform but a set of nondescript and fairly generic motorcycle leathers, indicating that this was an unofficial check-up into her wellbeing as his undercover subordinate Changeling. It was the little details that really mattered in the Varia and that Squalo cared enough to visit her at home gave Erica a warm feeling.

"Well?" He asked as she finished scraping her plate.

Erica sighed. "I do not believe that Sawada has deliberately engineered Federico's untimely demise; he is not nearly smug enough about it. Instead he is acting as though everybody around him has failed him _again_ and therefore he must do everything himself if he is to achieve worthwhile results. He's been in the office maybe twice since Wednesday, but calls me on the phone every hour on the hour to demand information updates. We haven't ruled out the possibility that this is the same person who has been massacring the Northern Famiglia, but the destruction of the Cassoni the week before last makes it unlikely, considering the reasonably regular time intervals between those massacres so far."

Squalo grunted and poured her a glass of wine; Erica knew that he hadn't really believed Iemitsu had a hand in Federico's murder, but considering her uncle had been trying very hard to get Iemitsu removed from the CEDEF the External Advisor did have a plausible motive.

"Elsewhere, we've ruled out over one hundred suspects connected to people Federico seduced the past, including most of the allied Dons," Erica went on, sipping her wine. "We haven't managed to rule out it being a hit by Don Vongola yet, but we should have the necessary evidence within the month, one way or another. The Varia have also been cleared, since the Mist Officer allowed us access to the payment records and mission outlines for the past year. Individual Varia members may yet be implicated, but no matter how keen Iemitsu is on that possibility he can't dig up evidence that doesn't exist."

"Fucker," Squalo growled, glaring at his drink; "like any of us would do anything that Stupid."

"I know," Erica agreed, "but I can't tell him that so he gets to waste time chasing red herrings. On a brighter note, Mafia Land have agreed to check their books and let us know if they come across any suspicious transactions so we'll know if it was foreign interference by the end of the month."

"Well that's _something_ ," the nineteen-year-old grumbled, rubbing his head with the back of his prosthetic hand. "Don't think they'll turn up anything though."

"No, it's a bit of a long shot," Erica admitted tiredly, "and an unlikely one at that. Most of the Underworld was waiting for Federico to take over the Family before they started causing trouble, to get a feel for his methods and politics. Now though… without any clear heirs Nono's going to have a hell of a time keeping things going: all the ambitious syndicates will be circling, probing for weaknesses and pushing power plays in the hope that there _won't_ be a Tenth and the Vongola will collapse. In fact reports suggest that there's going to be a spate of assassination attempts on Don Nono in the coming months, just to see if they can get the family to fall apart faster." She paused, twirling her empty wineglass between her fingers. "If I give you the raw data there and notify Visconti, he'll set up a bounty system so that any interested Varia can take advantage. The Underworld will need to be terrorised into submission if Grandfather is going to get the time he needs to prepare a new heir."

Squalo nodded. "Sounds good," he admitted gruffly. "I'll have the details put on the notice boards so that people can fit them around regular missions in the right areas." He paused. "Seen your kids yet?"

"No," Erica admitted. "Too busy."

"I'll take you to the Vongola Mansion so you can have somebody fetch you," Squalo said. "Ridden a motorbike before?"

"Yes." Xanxus had made a habit of 'borrowing' one or other of the racing bikes that belonged to the security team and joyriding on it when he was in a mood; he'd taken her along a few times, much to Coyote's disapproval. Her mother had just sighed and given her extra Flame training in how to protect herself from whiplash injuries and high speed collisions.

Squalo grabbed her plate and glass and dumped them in the sink, pouring hot water over them and quickly washing them. Erica got to her feet, stretched and went to grab a few changes of clothing and a clean uniform so she wouldn't have to come back to her apartment before work on Monday. Pýř had broken in at some point around her birthday and replaced all her uniforms with better-tailored ones in expensive, comfortable and Flame-proofed fabrics; well she only knew it was Pýř because he'd left her a note telling her what he'd done and that it was for his and Maínomai's peace of mind, since his partner was definitely not ready to become a single parent should she come to harm.

Erica suspected she was being played somehow, but she did know that Maínomai was a chronic worrier and it would make him feel better to know she was protected from casual harm so she hadn't protested. The shoes Pýř had bought her around the end of her maternity leave were the most comfortable ones she'd ever owned and never made her feet ache, not even after a day spent rushing around the CEDEF building, so she was probably going to wear them out within the year. Maybe he'd get her a new pair for her birthday this year?

A bag packed, Erica switched off her CEDEF phone and let Squalo drag her down to the garage under her apartment building and climbed onto the back of his motorbike, unpinning her hair so she could get the helmet on. The pins went in her bag, which she then made sure was fitted close to her body before the Rain Officer kicked the engine into life and drove off, headed for the Iron Fort.

* * *

Having been dropped off in front of the garages behind the Vongola Mansion, Erica stopped outside the door to the service wing while the security team verified her identity, then accepted a cup of hot milk from the kitchen staff to warm her up after her late night ride and five minute wait in the cold. Once she was feeling warmer and slightly more human Erica texted Pýř to let him know where she was and that she wanted a lift to wherever her children were. Hamlet had notified her back on the day of her uncle's murder that her son and daughter had been evacuated from the mansion by her friend, and since anything Maínomai did would inevitably involve his partner and Squad Leader it was more efficient to communicate with the Cloud if she wanted something done quickly. Maínomai might be a whole lot better than he used to be but he still had his moments, like when he forgot to charge his phone or failed to turn it on while it was charging after letting the battery run all the way down.

"Erica?" The Rain glanced up through her messy fall of hair at Antony, her recently-late uncle's Rain Guardian. She wasn't sure what his real name was, but she'd probably be finding out soon since with her uncle dead, his Guardians would be disbanding as soon as the state of emergency was over.

"Hi Antony," she said, pushing her hair out of her face and idly wishing that motorcycle helmets were not so destructive to one's coiffure. "I'm arranging a visit to the children for tomorrow." Since the state of emergency was still ongoing, everybody who had been removed to safe-houses would be staying there until it was over. The Mafia Academies had also been closed so that parents could keep their children at home and all Vongola-affiliated clubs and social events were also suspended.

Antony nodded, not meeting her eyes. Erica wondered why exactly he was looking so guilty. He had looked at her –no he had looked at her eyes peering through her hair– and flinched before trying to get himself together. He was definitely feeling _very_ guilty though and his grief at her uncle's death was making it harder for him to hide it.

There were very few reasons why seeing her –messy hair or otherwise– would make Antony look so very guilty. All of them pertained to her and her immediate family, so were by definition her business. Antony definitely knew that, yet wasn't telling her what the problem was; he wasn't even letting her know that there _was_ a problem. He was just standing there looking flustered and guilty and non-verbal.

Erica had been doing fourteen-hour days since her uncle's death and would be continuing to do so for the foreseeable future; she was all out of tact for personal things.

Her phone peeped; she looked down to see Pýř's answer to her text. He'd be sending a Mist to collect her from the end of the road outside the Vongola's security line in ten minutes' time. Coming to a decision, Erica texted back to ask if the Mist would be okay transporting Antony as well; she wanted answers and if it turned out to be innocuous, seeing Amadeo would help Antony get his head on straight for the coming week. Her uncle had after all selected Antony as her son's godfather so taking care of her little boy was technically one of the Rain's Sky-appointed duties.

"You should come with me," Erica said firmly, looking up to meet the older Rain's eyes; "Amadeo would love to see you and he's bound to be bored after spending half a week indoors."

"Er, I, ah, won't anybody mind?" Antony mumbled, a pang of wistfulness crossing his face. He really was very distraught to be this transparent.

"You've got your phone if Hamlet or any of the others want to get in touch and tomorrow's a Sunday, so only the covert things will be continuing as normal," Erica pointed out. What she was doing wasn't very nice, but she had a bad feeling about that look on his face and she wanted answers.

Her phone peeped again, revealing an agreement. "Come on, get your coat," Erica said firmly, grabbing the older man's sleeve and dragging him down the hall. "You look exhausted and you'll be no good to anybody if you don't rest a bit."

Antony allowed her to drag him into the cloakroom, pulled on his coat and offered her an arm before opening the door and letting her lead him down the path towards the road; he was very definitely operating on autopilot and Erica intended to take full advantage. Getting him into an unfamiliar setting and surrounded by Varia would put him further off-balance and make it harder for him to hide things and having Amadeo present would make him reluctant to lie or seriously deflect because lying to children in your care was _wrong_. That persistent moral standard was one Erica agreed with and approved of, even when it wasn't making her life easier like it was now. The whole mess with Xanxus would never have happened if her grandfather had told the truth rather than obfuscating.

Erica wasn't entirely sure which Mist would be collecting them –her friends' Squad included three of them after all– but whichever one it was, they were probably going to transport her and Antony directly to the house rather than bother with a vehicle.

* * *

Maínomai was the one that picked Erica and Antony up. His squad had made good arguments for him doing so personally beyond the obvious point that Maínomai would have to adjust security anyway; he was already known to Antony and therefore less likely to upset the grieving Rain Guardian for however much longer Antony had the ring and a few other reasons. Pýř wasn't enthused with that idea either but he wasn't going to deny Antony the chance to see his godson, even if his godson was currently asleep upstairs; the bunk room downstairs was hosting Ghul and Vahn so that it looked like they were out doing recon for the Lanzas instead of watching the children they had been bodyguards to several months ago. There really was no such thing as an excess of caution, especially in the face of curious Varia co-workers. So the ruse had to continue.

Maínomai wasn't happy about having to host Antony either, but that was more because he didn't want to bring Antony to the home he had; yes, he'd bring Antony over but that didn't mean he'd let Federico's Rain Guardian remember where it was, even if he wasn't bringing the man in by conventional means. It was petty but the fact he would be doing it anyway diffused some of his frustrations about the entire situation: if Federico hadn't given his Guardians the slip, a lot of the Vongola's problems would either be fixed because they wouldn't have happened or would be in the process of being fixed once the messy change-over was through. Instead, Federico had out-smarted his Guardians for the last and final time instead of being corralled, despite the Guardians knowing Federico had a problematic habit, and it had cost them all. It was a complete and utter failure on the part of Federico's Guardians and Maínomai wasn't inclined to trust them with any kind of security after that. Not for an adult who in theory could take care of himself and especially not for a young child who certainly couldn't. So Antony wouldn't have that option at all. Not even for future brief outings if Maínomai could manage it, but that would be something to deal with later when the children were back in the Vongola Mansion and under their grandmother's care.

If Maínomai wasn't happy about it then his friend was even worse off and for more reasons; Pýř's sensory abilities were sharp enough that he could pick up on Bonds! The type and even why they happened! He normally kept his Flame-senses at a mild level, because Flames sprung from the Soul and so Pýř could find out a lot about a person just from their Flame traces if he bothered to investigate deeply. He thankfully viewed it as a breach of privacy to read so deeply, a lot like how Mammon viewed his Esper abilities. It still didn't stop them from knowing some things but they at least had the decency to not share what they knew and knew how to deal with what they knew. It didn't make knowing any more pleasant for them, even if they knew why it was so unpleasant. It sometimes made things worse.

The problem was that with a Guardian Bond was a solid bond between souls and the people in it had a habit of reaching out and reinforcing each-other every time they were in proximity; this happened whether those bonded were Flame-active or not, but with both people being able to use Flames made it more obvious to people who were able to see or sense Flames. Those bonded with a Sky got used to having that Sky around and add in how long Antony and Federico had been together, they'd only grown tighter and closer, so having it all ripped away with Federico's death was very traumatic to the souls he had been bonded to and they would reach out in lingering Flame-traces, looking for their Sky. Some Flame-traces lingered more than others, but while Rain Flames weren't as bad as say Sky –and there were a few spots in the Varia Mansion that _still_ felt as if Boss had been there recently– they were something like an oil-slick and not easy to remove with anything short of a full-Cleanse.

Neither he nor Pýř minded the regular Cleansing at the Varia, but a full-Cleanse made a place feel very empty and lacking in life; like a newly built house that was unlived in and lacking in warmth, which made it creepy-feeling since abandoned places tended to just feel sad. Pýř letting Antony visit was more politically-minded than what his partner would have preferred because to Pýř, having Antony there was like being in close quarters with a heavy smoker; one that smoked a potent cocktail of grief, regret, sorrow and loss.

He couldn't do anything about that but maybe he could prevent having to Cleanse their home by not letting Antony leave Flame-traces? It would only take a small Alteration and he could set it up to be temporary, so it'd only last a day. It'd prevent lingering issues, even if it did nothing to prevent Pýř being able to sense him anyway.

So Maínomai waited for Erica and Antony, thinking about how best to manipulate things in his favour; not something he normally bothered with since he hadn't needed to for several years outside of getting information or on missions for the Varia. It really was as easy and as distasteful as he remembered and Antony had no idea how Maínomai teleported, so he could do the Alteration at the same time as that. A moment of thought and will later, he checked the framework of the proposed Alteration and decided that it'd work. How well it'd work to shield Pýř's senses was less clear but it should make it a little better at least.

He didn't have Pýř's highly developed Flame-sense since Maínomai's ran about average for the Varia so he was nowhere near his friend's league; but neither were Erica or Antony or indeed the majority of the Varia. Most people that did learn to sense Flames could best do so while they were being actively used and it was something most of the mafia capable of using Flames learned within a few years of learning to use them. Sensing someone who was Flame-active but wasn't using them was a magnitude harder but most of the Varia could, even if they'd only bothered to learn how to avoid the more passive Flame-traps. Sensing the Flames of Latents was yet another magnitude of difficulty which was beyond what most of the Varia could do. Maínomai and a number of Mists could cheat with Enchantments that let them see Flame-residue or the potential in Latents, but that didn't make their Flame-sense sharp. It just made them better at cheating.

Maínomai noticed Antony first. For a Rain, he really had to be rattled. He hadn't had much interaction with Federico's Rain, but he had received the impression that Antony usually kept a cool head. Something else was compounding the issue, but it wasn't up to Maínomai to do anything about it. Not unless someone wanted him to meddle. Maybe that's what Erica was doing? Her hair was messy in a way that wasn't purposeful, she was clearly tired and frustrated but there was something about her that said not 'Rain on the hunt' but 'Rain waiting to strike'. That was something to think about. Work-related maybe?

"Hello, Maínomai." She said. "I was wondering who Pýř would send to pick us up."

"Yeah, there were a few reasons for that, but it boils down to me being most familiar to Antony and them being mean." And himself being a bit paranoid, admittedly. His eye-based Enchantment couldn't pick up anything different about them or in the area. Ghul could have done the pick-up but he wouldn't be sure that who he had picked up was who he thought it was, as Ghul hadn't really interacted with Antony; the sum-total of time they had spent within sight of each-other was less than an hour, which had been when Antony had seen Erica off on her vacation and picked her back up after it, which was back in last summer! Vahn could have seen the differences but his skills at transportation were... the nicest thing Maínomai could say about them was that Vahn hadn't found the method that worked best for him and was badly out of practice. Pýř upon learning that had promptly assigned Vahn training for tomorrow.

And that reminded him, "You've mainly had Hamlet transport you before haven't you Antony? Just a warning since it'll probably feel different." Antony nodded, still feeling unsettled. So Maínomai just grabbed both of their hands and brought all three of them to his roof.

He probably shouldn't have been so amused at Antony's squeak, but he cared more about Erica so he had only made sure she was steady.

"That was different." Antony remarked as he took in the rooftop garden; that was more of Pýř's project and since it was winter it didn't look like much right now.

"Different specialties, different schools of thought, which results in different methods," Maínomai explained. Hamlet being trained as a Vongola Guardian was thus proficient in Curses, Conjuration and Illusion, although he didn't know which her specialty actually was. "I just Altered our location. It's fastest and nearly untraceable unless someone's good enough to unravel the surprises I left behind, which will dissipate in about ten minutes and the traces that indicate out-going location will have been dissolved already by said surprises then."

"And my kids?" Erica asked.

"We've put them to bed on the first floor. Amadeo was a bit annoyed that he couldn't have the bunk bed in the guest room on the ground floor but that doesn't mean he hasn't taken naps there or turned the bottom bunk into a canopy bed with spare sheets and so on. If Erica stays with Amadeo, you can have the couch on the ground floor, Antony. Erica, I'll give Antony the tour while you check on the kids, but hurry down because Ghul made cake, so we're sharing stories if you wanna join in before bed."

* * *

Pýř took another bite of cake as his partner brought Amadeo's godfather down the stairs from the roof. Pýř had pointedly muted his Flame-sense as much as he could, but that didn't mean he was blind to what he could sense. There was grief and guilt and more; as there should be, since they'd failed at keeping their Dumb Sky alive from a known issue, thus allowing Federico to be without them and be Stupid enough to get ambushed by the Storm that had turned him into steaming bones. Antony felt more off balance than Pýř expected, but it wasn't like he was an expert in grieving Guardians.

Of the Guardians for dead Skies that Pýř knew about first-hand... Ottava's Mist had pulled a masterful disappearing act while her Cloud had shifted focus to her apprentice who looked far too much like Squalo and felt like a Superbi. Enrico's Guardians had long since scattered after Enrico's death years ago, Massimo's Cloud existed for some months without Massimo but the loss of her Territory eventually got to her and resulted in her death. He couldn't even compare Federico's Guardians to those of any living Sky either; those with a living Sky didn't grieve.

Of the living Skies Pýř knew of, there were only three he'd met. Vongola Nono still had all his current Guardians, even if the bond between Nono and his Sun was probably still weaker than those binding the rest. Tyrant at one point had been bonded to Guardians. They were all long dead and Tyrant, though fonder of some people than others, was no longer interested in Guardians on a soul-deep level. Too much loss and so on; Tyrant at least didn't turn out as eccentric as Vongola Quarto supposedly had, he just became very scary, very focused and very lethal. Then there was Xanxus, who had secured Levi and Lussuria's loyalty even if he hadn't actually managed to form a Guardian Bond with them; maybe if he had succeeded Pýř wouldn't find Levi's presence so irritating, but that was how he felt about most Lightnings anyway. Tesla, the previous Lightning Officer, had been a civilian before he was Varia and Pýř was well aware of the differences between an actually competent Lightning and a Lightning the mafia considered competent; they were vast and included personhood.

Annoying as it was to contemplate, you'd think that a highly capable Flame-active Sky around a bunch of other Flame-actives would form a lot of bonds. That was true, but that didn't mean the bonds formed were Guardian Bonds. That was different and only between a Sky and their Guardian of whichever Flame attribute. Flame-bonds could form between various Flame-types from proximity over time, respect that went both ways and sheer compatibility between the two people, but Guardian Bonds required a Sky. Xanxus hadn't been part of the Varia long, but Varia-years were like dog years so that hadn't been much of a factor. A lot of them in the 'old guard' of the active Varia were based on respect and that hadn't faded; those were only 'brittle' if the person respected turned out to be a disappointment. The main reason that Xanxus hadn't managed to snag a full assortment of Guardians was the nature of the Varia itself; much of the Varia was filled with people who had at one point broken or come close to the edge of it.

Pýř himself had hit that point when he committed matricide as a teenager and such experiences left marks on the soul. Guardian Bonds required all three kinds of bonds with reciprocation from both sides, so tossing a Sky and another Flame together for a year wouldn't always result in a Guardian Bond. The marks left by a person's breaking could be read, but Pýř considered that a breach of privacy so he frequently didn't bother 'looking' that deep. Such marks meant there were strict 'requirements' that had to be met for a Guardian bond to form, and those varied wildly and were occasionally impossible to meet.

They also often weren't conscious decisions either, hence why Pýř knew a lot more about his co-workers than they'd be comfortable with. Ghul required a love of theatre and pop-culture or at least the willingness to learn. That was the easy one. He still had no clue how to articulate the bond that connected Ghul and Raas as fast-friends. Vahn's requirements were murkier, but involved a certain level of perception. His partner required steady support and an understanding of sacrifice and selflessness, in that Maínomai worked to benefit the 'whole' even if it cost him, rather than being a martyr; it was far more selfish than that. It made sense that he and his partner had drifted and then stuck together since Pýř's knew his 'easy' requirements included disdain towards a particular parent and careful consideration of resources including his Territory, in order to provide an optimal result even without his input. His 'hard' requirement was actually killing the hated parent and getting away with it.

Which was the area, if Pýř wanted to be honest, that Xanxus had failed the Vongola the most. Killing Nono would have caused a number of immediate issues, and there was no doubt that Xanxus would have suffered some form of punishment for it, but at least he wouldn't be in a block of ice. Maybe a year in Vendicare before being allowed to return to the Varia, since most of the mafia would have no clue he'd even been there; it wasn't like the Varia socialized much and a lot was covered by contract. Considering that Nono had named no heir at that time, it wasn't like Ottava couldn't have sorted things out: in the absence of declared heirs authority fell to retired Bosses. It was possible that Enrico still would have been shot up, but Ottava would have had her grandsons actually working hard for the Vongola instead of doing petty errands and living off the family money like it appeared Nono had allowed his sons to do, since until recently Pýř hadn't known of any actual accomplishments to be proud of achieved by any of them; Federico's womanizing was not something to be proud of.

Federico's Guardian didn't cut that impressive of a figure either, compared to Squalo or any number of other Rains that he knew. However Antony was still Amadeo's godfather, so Pýř would host the Rain Guardian. He'd be polite but he wouldn't offer any sympathies for his loss because Pýř had none. Federico had been Stupid and his Guardians even more so.

"Is our friend detained?" Ghul asked, wearing nothing but an old dark t-shirt and boxers. Despite Ghul turning out to have the most clothing out of all of them on Chaos Squad, he really only splurged on nightwear for his feminine identities.

"She's checking on her children." Vahn answered, being the only Mist in everyday dress. Vahn actually preferred to sleep in his clothes unless it was cold enough to warrant thick pyjamas. It was something most of the Varia who had done a stint in Medical did.

"We'll wait until she gets down before starting the next round. There's cake. Ghul's surprisingly talented with baking." Pýř ignored Ghul's comments about 'the witch's lessons in horror being memorable'. His partner had pretty much pushed the Rain towards them then run off to check on Erica or to convince her to come down and enjoy herself a bit before going to bed; she probably needed the sleep.

"Ah, thank you?" Antony replied, uncomfortable.

Ghul served him a slice, with a theatrical flair that proved Ghul had probably once been a waiter somewhere. That Ghul went on to describe the cake in the most ridiculous and flowery language possible at least earned a smile after that initial blank look of confusion had passed. Antony seemed to have understood about half of the metaphors, which suggested he was well-read at least.

"We're back!" Maínomai cheered as he and Erica entered the kitchen. "Anyway, Erica's agreed to a round of stories, although contract conditions apply so we can't name Names unless it pertains to Vongola or Lanza interests, with the Lanza having right to share as we're contracted on a mission for the Lanza. Exceptions being made for public identities or those known to all those present, of course."

"Stories?" Antony repeated.

"The Varia has a rich tradition of telling and passing them down." Pýř explained. "It's a way to hand on a lot of information in a way that's entertaining. That they're truthful, or mostly so that means it counts as history too." Also a way to build unity and a sense of connection between all the 'generations' of Varia, in a way that crossed Divisions and Squad boundaries, but Pýř didn't mention that part.

"Our theme is 'poison' but that's because a newbie said something thoughtless and if it wasn't for the state of emergency, there'd be a lot more playful poisoning going on within the ranks right now. However this is not the time for it, so many are just swapping stories and planning for later instead." Vahn added, watching Antony carefully.

"I'll start this round." Pýř volunteered. "A few months after Maínomai and I had first taken a mission together, we were assigned to a campaigner for our Squad Leader. We had just finished a series of missions, so we took a little time to celebrate and go sight-seeing. The Squad Leader with us decided to just sleep in, as he'd be driving later. The Lightning assigned with us however had developed a fondness for spicy food and was capable enough to be left without oversight for some time, so went off by himself and returned to the hotel room an hour or so later as the spicy food he tried didn't agree with him. About an hour after that, Maínomai and I returned to find said Lightning still hogging the bathroom and the Squad Leader sleeping with a gas mask on. I still have no idea where the gas mask came from or why he didn't open the windows, but the air quality in the room certainly merited it..."

Maínomai made a face at the memory of that particular incident. Vahn looked amused while trying not to snicker and Ghul laughed. Antony cracked a smile; interesting to note that the Rain Guardian's grief wasn't as all-consuming as he had initially been led to believe, but it might be him doing that emotional compartmentalization that Rains were noted for being able to do. Erica giggled before telling Pýř that his story was terrible, but funny and...

"And it got you to laugh didn't it?" He pointed out, proving his choice was entirely intentional.

Ghul shared another story about Kuchisake's cooking class, with Vahn translating and condensing the elaborate phrases into something more easily understood when necessary. As Kuchisake's cooking class was all about food, poisons and how to use illusions for various effects on them, Ghul had no shortage of such stories to share.

Vahn's came from his time as an intern at Varia's Medical. Medical didn't poison people, but they did see a lot of victims of poisoning. This meant they had a surplus of stories as well. Maghirabi's painted ceiling did absolutely vile things to anyone who was seeing double or things that weren't there.

His partner had already shared a few stories before he had left to get Erica and Antony, but the both of them tended not to get poisoned themselves and his partner had a record of preventing teammates from getting poisoned even by accident by reflexively checking everything. As Erica and Antony were here, they couldn't share the legacy stories they had heard of past Varia, unless that member was already known to Erica and Antony.

"Hmm, how about the time I was poisoned in Medical?" Maínomai suggested, as if that didn't violate the Rule that Varia Medical did not poison patients. Vahn gave a Maínomai confused look, because Vahn knew what happened to those in Medical that accidentally overdosed anyone with anything. Poisoning someone else while in Medical was given nothing less than what such a violation of trust deserved.

"And how come I'm just now hearing about this?" The younger Mist asked.

"Because it was during my first year as Varia, the incident happened shortly after Christmas and there were mitigating circumstances? Besides, it was only a paralytic, so no internal damage done. And people don't like to talk about the aftermath there. They found it embarrassing."

"Details." Ghul demanded.

"Anyway, to set the scene, the post-Christmas period and a little after New Years is a time when a lot of people take off time to go on holiday, if they aren't already gone. So it's mostly Housekeeping, the dedicated and the ones that didn't think to secure time off and travel arrangements in advance that are still there. It's also pretty boring since most people are cleaning, training or doing paperwork. So I ended up over at Medical, translating medical journals and so on from various languages while getting the medical jargon explained to me. The Sun that was explaining the medical jargon was painting her nails. Normally nurses and so on aren't allowed to have painted nails because of bacterial concerns or the polish flaking off, but this polish is a paralytic. A rather fast-acting one especially when combined with a touch of Sun Flames; very good for keeping those injured in bed or from making escape attempts."

That would be Magharibi then that his partner was referring to.

"Unbeknownst to pretty much everyone, there were a trio of Mists in a courtyard practicing. They were all pretty much even in power and skill, but they were practicing different skills. One had created a flowering tree, so there was Mist-pollen and fragrance everywhere, all over the building since it was a really nice day and the windows were open. I never found out what the other two were practicing exactly, but they all pretty much managed to sabotage each other. This wouldn't have been so much of a problem if it was just sensory warping, but one of them was practicing reactionary hi-jacking. In other words how people react to sensory input."

Ghul winced and Vahn grimaced; both were definitely familiar with how that could go wrong.

"So those that had been smelling the tree-illusion –which was pretty much everyone with active Flames in the building– all abruptly had a sudden, irrational response. One that no one was prepared for, knew how to stop immediately or could control, because it was in the air and every subsequent breath just made it worse. Like sudden terror and running away, or an urge to fight. Then there's urge number three, which a fair number of people succumbed to after a brief tussle. Except there I was, on the floor in Medical, immobile from a paralytic and there she was, unable to move because of a Mist-trick I pulled."

Pýř was pretty sure he knew the exact trick his partner had pulled off. It worked by fooling the other person into feeling exactly what the Mist was feeling. Pulling that off on Maghirabi meant she couldn't move until his partner could, unless she could get him out of her head. Which she wouldn't have been in any state to achieve, considering the circumstances.

"In that respect, we both got off rather lightly as nothing that we would later regret happened." His partner said, very ambiguously. "This event taking place is why, for several months afterwards, Tyr showed a notable lack of caring for a bit of personally motivated murder between Varia who were affected. Up until Squalo killed him, anyway. Now that I think about it, most of those who died during those months wouldn't have made it through Xanxus' shake-up later."

A lot of those that were no longer Varia following Xanxus' shake-up had not met his standards for what he wanted the Varia to be, as professionals and as highly skilled people who were always working to improve. The lazier Mists, the most uncooperative and so on either retired or ended up dead, possibly by Wrath Flames.

"Antony, your turn," he reminded the failure of a Rain Guardian.

Antony hummed, tapping his fingers on the rim of his plate. "Are any of you –other than Erica of course– familiar with how Xanxus got so good at Mist-tricks, both using them and sensing them?"

"No," Maínomai said eagerly, eyes brightening at the prospect of a new and potentially amusing story about their absent Boss. There were vanishingly few Xanxus-stories in the Varia pool and having a new one would be valuable currency.

"I'll share it then, on the condition that you never tell him who told you," Antony said solemnly, eyes glinting with humour.

"Deal," Pýř conceded, liking that Antony was treating Xanxus' return to the Varia as inevitable. It was a promising attitude in one so closely affiliated to the main Vongola Famiglia, suggesting that Nono might have a timeline in mind regardless of the current crisis.

"Back when Xanxus was thirteen and learning everything about Flames that he could either read about or persuade people to show him, he decided that the best person to ask about Mist-tricks would be Nebbia," Antony began. "It probably had something to do with Nebbia being the most accessible Mist as well, since he was always there when Xanxus was visiting Ottava. Anyway, thirteen-year-old Xanxus demanded to be shown how to do Mist-tricks while visiting Ottava for a family tea-party. Nebbia of course being a contrary old bastard completely ignored him and poured another round of tea. Xanxus, piqued, then demonstrated that he could conjure Mist-Flames and nearly gave Fede" –the Rain stuttered for a moment– "nearly gave Fede a conniption, because Mist wasn't Xanxus' secondary or even tertiary affinity. So Fede interrupted and demanded to know how Xanxus had learned that, which Xanxus being Xanxus used to taunt him. Two cups of tea later, the argument eventually got to the point that Fede actually stuck his tongue out at Xanxus. Xanxus naturally did so right back, at which point it suddenly became clear that somehow Xanxus' tongue had been dyed blue."

Antony paused for effect as Erica giggled into a hand and Maínomai snickered helplessly at the mental picture of their barely-pubescent Boss suddenly realising he'd been tricked.

"Of course Xanxus instantly accused Nebbia, who pointed out that he _had_ asked for it. I've never before or since seen Xanxus look so utterly stymied," the Guardian finished, smiling faintly at the memory.

That was a very funny story and did explain how Xanxus had always been so very good at picking up on Mists trying to play tricks on him; such a beginning would have challenged him to really excel in noticing such things.

"My turn," said Erica, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.

"It can wait until tomorrow if you're that tired," Maínomai said considerately.

"No, I'll manage," Erica assured him with a weary smile. "It's a funny story and you'll get a kick out of it."

"Oh?" Now Pýř was curious.

"This is the story of the cat who saved Federico from being drugged by a very cunning social climber," Erica said wickedly, eyes gleaming as Maínomai promptly slammed his hand over his mouth to smother laughter. Oh, so it was about Banshee and why Federico hadn't been able to persuade anybody to remove her from the Vongola Mansion. Not that Pýř was entirely sure how or why she'd suddenly moved there at all.

"So, two years ago Federico was given a very fine cat called Banshee by an anonymous admirer," Erica began, then had to stop because all three Mists were having trouble containing themselves. She patiently waited them out then continued, "Not long afterwards he had to host a small soirée for yet another batch of mafia women Don Vongola was trying to tempt him to pick a spouse from. Which was dumb because Vongola men are all stubborn as pigs, but my opinion wasn't sought; anyway, moving on. At this party there's food being carried around on trays and drinks being served, and about two hours in a prettied-up gold-digger Federico was talking to offered him her barely-touched glass of champagne, stating that she didn't like the taste. Federico, having been raised to be polite, accepted the glass but dropped it a moment later when a screeching, snarling cat dropped from the curtain rail above them and nearly took the gold-digger's eyes out."

That sounded altogether hilarious and completely in character for Banshee.

"Of course the woman is wailing and demanding the cat be put down for rabies, but Hamlet is quite possibly the most cynical and suspicious soul on the planet where women interested in her Sky are concerned, so she tests the spilt champagne while Macbeth is miserably failing to coax Banshee down from the curtain rail she's retreated to. The champagne turns out to be spiked with a very interesting aphrodisiac and fertility drug combination that probably would have resulted in Miss Gold-Digger conceiving the next Vongola Heir had the cat not interfered; as it was she got in a whole lot of trouble and Hamlet decided they were keeping the cat. Federico never won a single argument with Hamlet after she became his Guardian back when they were both kids, so the cat stayed in spite of later incidents and protests."

Maínomai actually fell off his chair he was laughing so hard; Pýř wondered how exactly his partner had been involved in moving a Varia cat into the Vongola Mansion.

"And while I really would love to do another round, I am shattered," Erica finished frankly. "Ghul, the cake was magnificent; I'll see you all in the morning." She left the kitchen.

"I would like to turn in too," Antony admitted. The Rain did not look like somebody who had been sleeping well recently.

"I'll get you some blankets," Maínomai volunteered, darting out of the kitchen towards the bunk room where the spare bedding was kept.

Pýř decided that he would have an early night too; Erica was planning something and whatever it was, he wanted to be there for it. Seeing as Erica was a morning person by necessity –if perhaps not by nature– that would mean getting up early, which wasn't his favourite thing. Or even in his top twenty favourite things, to be honest.

* * *

Pýř was woken up the next morning at the disgustingly early hour of six thirty by the sounds of movement and hushed voices in the kitchen. It was probably the attempts at keeping the noise down that had woken him; he'd have to let Erica know that in future she should just talk normally. The problem with having a sixth sense for subterfuge was that in domestic situations, subterfuge was occasionally considerate rather than malicious, such as a mother and her young children making an effort to not wake the other people in the house.

Deciding that since he was awake, he may as well get moving, Pýř slowly levered himself out of bed and slid his feet into a pair of slippers before shambling off towards the kitchen. It was his house, so he was allowed to wander around in pyjamas if he wanted to. He only bothered with the slippers because tile floors were _cold_ and the shock of the chilly ceramic against the soles of his feet was like an ice pick through the brain at this time in the morning.

As he had expected, there in the kitchen were Erica, Amadeo and Serena. The kids being louder today than most of the previous week could easily be explained by this being the first time they'd seen their mother since before the lock-down; they'd been asleep when she got in the previous evening after all. Serena responded to his arrival with a happy smile and a wave, but Amadeo looked guilty.

"Sorry for waking you, _Onkel_ ," the five-year-old said contritely. "Serena was excited about mamma being here."

Pýř waved off the apology, then blinked as Erica waved him into a seat and placed the teapot she'd just finished filling in front of him, next to the mug and sugar bowl. Sniffing, the Cloud grunted appreciatively; his preferred morning tea, all ready for him. How considerate. He'd have to wait a few minutes for it to brew properly, but it was still tea he hadn't needed to make himself and there was an entire big pot of it. One more reason why making Erica Territory had been a wonderful idea.

Erica then continued to prove that she was the best possible kind of Rain by putting bowls of _Haferbrei_ in front of both her children, complete with dried fruit and milk, then turned back to the stove and started cooking bacon over a slow heat in between feeding mouthfuls of food to Serena. The bacon smelled divine; Pýř put the odds on a kitchen invasion by sleep-walking Varia Mists in the next three minutes at two hundred to one. He amended those odds to 'dead certainty' when she got out another pan and started cooking sausages as well.

The first to arrive was Ghul, who slid into the kitchen, stole enough bacon out of the pan to make a generous sandwich then wandered out again, plate in one hand and cup of cappuccino in the other. Vahn arrived just as Ghul was leaving, but rather than pilfer from the stove raided the cupboards for a plastic wrapped brioche and a carton of peach juice. Pýř then remembered that Vahn didn't actually eat pork if he could help it; to be honest it wasn't a subject that came up often and was more of a personal choice than a religious one. The Cloud had a feeling there was a story there, but a quarter to seven in the morning was not the right time for that discussion.

Considering that Antony had been sleeping on the couch in the open area in the middle of the ground floor and everybody therefore had to walk past him to get into the kitchen, Pýř found it disappointing that the former Rain Guardian was the seventh person to enter the kitchen that morning rather than the fourth. The only reason it was merely disappointing rather than completely disgraceful was that Antony had been awake when Pýř shambled past him twenty minutes earlier; awake and eavesdropping. Considering the only reason Antony had been allowed into the building was that Erica had wanted the other Rain to spend time with his godson, deliberate avoidance was somewhat suspect.

Antony had shown up before Maínomai though, which was something. Maínomai slept like the dead and was upstairs, so the cooking smells wouldn't reach him for a while longer.

Antony accepted the sausages Erica served him and picked at them in a vaguely interested manner as she made herself scrambled eggs and sorted out a pot of coffee. Amadeo, having finished his breakfast, stared thoughtfully at his godfather.

"What did you do?" the five-year-old asked as Antony finally finished a sausage.

The Rain stared in confusion, clearly having no idea where the accusation had come from.

"You're acting like you think mamma is going to tell you off," Amadeo elaborated patiently. "So what did you do?"

"Well?" Erica asked, sitting down directly opposite the frozen Rain and looking him calmly in the eye over her cappuccino.

Breakfast and a show. Definitely worth getting up horrendously early for.

* * *

Erica was peripherally aware of Pýř settling himself into the background, a freshly poured mug of tea cradled protectively in both hands as he subtly effaced his presence from the kitchen. She didn't mind him being there at all; all the better in fact. Antony would be more reluctant to lie with a Varia assassin in the room, one able and willing to call him out on any bullshit. Amadeo also had a very keen nose for evasion, so Antony had limited procrastination time available to him. Added to the simple fact that Antony needed a meal and a coffee in his system before his brain got up to full speed...

She held the field advantage; Antony knew it and knew she'd done it on purpose. Was likely already trying to work out why she'd done it, thinking back through past transgressions... and there was that guilty wince again.

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?" Erica asked, her voice serene and her body language blandly curious. "I can tell it doesn't have to do with me directly, so it's probably something that affects me peripherally. A family matter; nothing to do with the wider Family though. Not my mother; not my children. That just leaves my brothers."

Antony had somehow folded in on himself without actually moving as she coolly hemmed him in with words and instinct. The Vongola Intuition may have been most obvious and potent in Skies, but that didn't mean that those of the blood who weren't Skies didn't have a touch of it of their own. Erica's Intuition was strongest when she was dealing with her immediate family, which was how she'd picked up on Antony's guilt in the first place.

"Ruggero is perfectly well, which leaves..." Erica trailed off, eyes narrowing. Benvenuto was her _little_ brother and she was very protective of him, even though he was a brat who delighted in winding her up. "What exactly have you done to my baby brother, Antony?"

Pýř stirred briefly at her accusation, lidded pink eyes boring holes in the side of Antony's head. Her late uncle's Rain Guardian shifted uneasily. "Nothing?"

"You don't sound convinced," Erica said clinically, swallowing a mouthful of eggs. "Negligence is also a course of action, you understand."

"It's outside Vongola jurisdiction!"

Erica set down her cutlery; Antony winced at the faint, staccato clink they made against her plate.

"It seems to _me_ ," the CEDEF Head Secretary said softly and deliberately, "that Nono is not the only one to have forgotten that there is a distinction between family and Family. True, the Vongola cannot interfere with the _Cosulenza Esterna_ , but there are no rules against expressing concern for the well-being of close relatives. In fact doing so is encouraged, especially if there are concerns about the well-being of _children_."

"Erica..." Antony said weakly.

"What has my incompetent Boss done to my baby brother, Antony?" Erica could feel her Flames beating in her ears, the distant roar of floodwaters and monsoons gathering momentum.

"Inappropriate training," Antony mumbled, poking his last remaining sausage with his fork and not looking her in the eye. Well that was wonderfully unclear, wasn't it?

"Should I go upstairs, mamma?" Amadeo asked, once again proving that he had a truly excellent mind.

"Please do so, darling boy," Erica said with a smile. Serena was watching everything with wide eyes and her fingers shoved in her mouth, but didn't seem bored or upset so Erica let her be. Amadeo hopped down off his chair, walked around the table for a hug and took the opportunity to glare at Antony before darting out of the room.

"Tell me or I will have Maínomai ask for me," Erica said flatly, having run out of patience. "I am sure he will manage to peel the details out of your brain eventually." That Antony could easily be gibbering wreck by that point did not need to be said, just as it did not need to be said that Erica would get away with it with a mere slap on the wrist. Her mother had considerable authority and would consider her actions fully justified.

Antony cringed. "Dying Will pills."

"Are a crutch but not inherently harmful," Erica rebutted. "Try again."

"Hyper-"

"-Dying Will mode is only appropriate for Skies," Erica finished, a vague sense of horror building in her gut. "Pýř, remind me again why I can't kill my idiot cousin-once-removed?"

Pýř grunted. "Make the Family look weak, spook the allied Families, invite more assassination attempts," the Cloud growled. "Give it a year or two."

"I will do then. I will also have to ask Maínomai for ideas so that there will be no more training," Erica decided. Her little brother's life depended on it. "Keeping him distracted should not be too challenging, all things considered, although it will mean more paperwork."

Antony looked like a wet cat, the sad kind who wanted to guilt you into things. Erica ignored him; he'd brought this upon himself by not confessing sooner. "Don't you look at me like that; you know exactly what the problem is yet you didn't care enough to put the health of your Sky's nephew ahead of Family politics. Be grateful I'm not going to tell my mother how long you and the others have been sitting on this." Because this was definitely something her _idiotic_ uncle and his Guardians had been failing to deal with for quite some time.

Antony made a squashed mouse noise at being threatened with the Head of Vongola Housekeeping and fled the kitchen in disarray. Erica did not move, breathing evenly through her nose as she tried to calm herself down enough for rational conversation. It was unfortunately a lost cause.

"Pýř, can I leave Serena with you? I need to go stand in the shower for a bit."

The Cloud nodded, setting his mug down on the table again and waving a hand towards the kitchen door.

"Thank-you. I don't mind you telling Maínomai but no further please; most people don't know Basil is Vongola and my mother would like to keep it that way."

"Hyper Dying Will?" Pýř asked.

"Is documented as being messily lethal to all Flame-types other than Skies," Erica said shortly. "Finding that out is how Quarto's first Guardians died."

"Stupid."

He meant Iemitsu and Erica honestly agreed with him. Unfortunately Stupid was not a killing offense in the CEDEF, or else the Family would have another 'mysterious' murder on their hands within the week. One that would have been incredibly well-earned.

* * *

Erica had spent the rest of the weekend with her children. His partner had also spent a considerable amount of time with Erica as well; the Mist had come down for breakfast as Erica was going up to shower, which led to a terse summation of what had just occurred in the kitchen.

Maínomai frowned as assembled his own breakfast. "Alterations to achieve that are possible, but they have to be done exactly right. Especially since this is something that couldn't be explained as a joke or something done 'to impress my date' like I did a couple of Christmases ago. I'm actually surprised that one hasn't been removed already, since it is fairly obvious and very simple. This would be more complex, involving changing his priorities at the least –which is an obvious tell depending on how vocal he is about them– and at most would involve changing his perceptions of people. Considering that, since he is a narcissist, he doesn't recognize people as people unless they're special like he is. More like obstacles, or extensions of himself at best. I could probably logic-loop him there, since Basil is his apprentice, so of course Basil is going to work hard like he would without his input and so on, overcoming difficulties and so on."

"And how easy would that be?" Pýř asked, because that sounded to be too simple.

"Easier, although logic-loops like that wouldn't stand up to any extensive questioning into why he believes it because it is circular reasoning. Still, it's Sawada Iemitsu, who's going to question him other than Nono? Who has that sort of right? Nono is unlikely to force things since he hasn't on other topics of importance, so I should probably be able to get away with that. It really depends on how often such training is and the effects of it –other than death– being unknown. Plus Iemitsu would want to see progress of the technique, which means he'd still have to practice it on occasion. Maybe I could get Iemitsu to decide to not ask too often, or I could further distort his perceptions? Or make him forget outright that this is something he's teaching Basil? I'd have to talk to Basil for his opinion about which he'd rather do, get Vahn to see what effects this sort of training has from a medical standpoint. Then I just have to find the time and place to make the change."

"You're forgetting the best part," Pýř informed his partner, who was too focused on plotting things out to focus on the wider picture. "Your surveillance mission for the Lanzas isn't just glorified babysitting now."

His partner giggled at the irony.

* * *

Translations

Onkel = uncle (German)

Haferbrei = porridge, oatmeal (German)

All other Varia names and words have been translated previously, or are English.


End file.
